Objective truth? Why do we let perception lead us down paths that we know are just illusions if we'd just think objectively about it? Who knows. What I do know is that it bugs me. I mean really gets under my skin.
The artist's temperament is fickle and passionate. At least for me it is. I fall deeply and madly in love with things. I find a new artist and research about their lives and their work and their processes. I buy posters with their stuff on them. I make pictures of them. I crush. Hard. Hell, I have a room dedicated to Amedeo Modigliani. No, I'm not kidding. Come over and see for yourself. But it's not just artists. It's objects. It's feelings. It's scents. It's life. It's all maddeningly beautiful to me. I want to touch it and smell it and roll it around in my mouth. Savor and hold tightly and feel it in my bones...
But it goes away sometimes and everything feels SO DAMN hopeless. There is a block of some sort. In the same degree that I loved that snail I spied on the sidewalk, I feel like there is no hope. That we're all just doomed for failure. And what's the point anyway when we all just die at the end? Really. Even if one became homeless and lost their legs and became a dragging drunk, what's the big deal?
And you know what sends me in these spirals? Fear. It's fear. I know it. I don't need a book to tell me that. Because as much as I say "yeah, we'll just die", I'm scared as hell about that. I want it to be okay. I want to feel more of the crushing love feeling. I want to know that THINGS WILL WORK OUT! I don't want to feel hopeless and flailing and scared.
And then I stop.
I realize that, yes, I am feeling hopeless now, and it will fade like it has every single time in the past. This will follow suit. It's just my perception. And I try to look at it objectively. But is there really an objective perspective? Isn't that an oxymoron? I don't know.
I wish I knew if there was a middle ground of seeing things. Some higher "this is what is absolutely true" view that I can reach for in time of elation and in times of misery.
The truth of the situation.
But does all that really matter anyway? I mean... it wouldn't change the fact that I fall in love, and it wouldn't change the fact that I fall into emotional dumpsters. Or would it.
I'd love to hear what you think about this topic. Offer some clarity (or more confusion if that's how you see it).