Creativity and life force
Everyone wants to author a work that captures the whole of humanity and somehow doesn’t cause us to all run off into the forest covering ourselves with fig leaves. We all want to be assured that we get it, but in spite of looking it right in the face, the world as it is really IS fine, or almost fine. We want to be assured that is is within our grasp to be good and make other things good.
Sometimes a woman like myself needs to undertake bizarre tasks: paint a thrift store wedding dress with the failures of every relationship past to purge them, draw all over her body in old Halloween lipstick to feel the blood in her veins, or maybe even skip into love again with rainbow eyes.
Too much documentation of, translation of, and processing of horrors from all over the world does not result in deepness, but rather a different kind of shallowness where you shut off the other end of what it is to be human. Lest I become a trauma-worker-robot (precaution number gazillion), I am going to temporarily revel in being comfortable with myself as I belong in this universe. Now, mind you, I’ve been highly uncomfortable like every stupid instant since I was a little girl, so this farewell to the fig leaves is QUITE a revolution. There is salvation, and I suppose that the Figure-in-Charge decided it was my time.
Somebody love me the way every person has always wanted?! BOOSH!
