It’s hard to find it. It’s even harder to watch it slipping by. Every day. Just like that. Inching away, slipping out of your grasp.
While you were busy hustling, running the lines, out-thinking, out-guessing, out maneuvering, it was slowly outliving you.
And now it’s gone. And you are wondering why you cannot do any of those things which you were naturally good at. Why the paint brush don’t stroke no more. Why the lines don’t rhyme no more. Why the words don’t stitch no more.
Why….and you look around yourself and recollect.
Back then, you had nothing. And you had nothing to lose.The nothingness gave you freedom. Freedom to take risks. It also gave you hunger. Coupled with the uncertainty of tomorrow it gave you an “unbearable lightness of being”.
Faced with the rejection of the failures you stumbled upon, you turned inside your self to find the strength to respond, and inspiration found you. The words flowed. The lines rhymed. The chords went chromatic.
Art was in the existence of being.
When you have nothing to lose it’s easy to say no. It’s easy to romance in the possibility of what may be possible. It’s easy to call out stupid , incompetency to its face.
Back then you were selling your dreams. These days you are just selling the compromise of mediocracy. Somewhere down the road the dreams and compromises colluded, made a pact, signed a deal and sold you to yourself.
Now you are the buyer of your aspiration- and it’s expensive.
The oligarchs are smiling.
Standing at the crossroads of Darwin and Adam Nash you collide, collude, compare and start feeling tired, only to pop in a pill, focus and keep going, because the ease of exitentialism is easier than the friction of being on the edge.
Tarry a while. Check in your scrapbook. Feel the sunshine on your skin. Taste a drop of rain. Close your eyes and remember your childhood where the wish to do something almost always surmounted the odds of doing it.
Seek what made you happy. The simplicity of it will make you smile.
Do that.
And inspiration will come back.
She’s there lurking in the shadows of your reality and subconscious, smoking a cigarette, letting you be, chuckling softly at the choices you make.
And as she reads this line she doubles up in mirthful laughter.
Hypocrite …she says softly,before vanishing into the shadows once again
