Many of my artistic friends are brilliant,creative,hungry and driven.
They are also broke as hell.
While I absolutely adore all my friends,I sometimes wonder : What the hell they’re thinking when they make certain decisions. All of my thirties and a great big chunk of my twenties was spent pursuing my “dream”.
All in an effort to be discovered.
To have someone bestow on me the gift that is the lust and hunger of every artist : fame and fortune and of course notoriety.
My dream at one time was that someone would pluck me from obscurity, notice my witty asides and infectious laughter from the other side of a semi-crowded coffee shop and demand that I do his play or movie and then everything would fall into place.
All of this fantasy living would be great if things were like they are in the movies.
But they are not.
I had to master a concept that Jeff Goins refers to as “picking myself”.
So many of us,artistically inclined or not,are doing a couple of interesting and pointlessly annoying things: Waiting for permission from someone to say it’s ok to accomplish our dreams and relentlessly hopelessly trying to prove our worth.
Instead of trying to prove my worth,my time is better spent living my possibilities.
My commitment to struggle and artistic development often left me physically hungry, resentful and somewhat unproductive. I somehow became very confused as to what the life of an artist required.
I thought artistic development and output demanded scarcity,sacrifice,heartache and drama.
The only thing this got me was more of the same.
In an effort to prove my worth and that I was worthy of the title “artist”, I bought into the beliefs that said years of struggle and almost hitting the mark was my entry fee.
I had yet to choose me.
While this is not new to me or unique to my situation, it is prevalent across many disciplines and most people in their respective careers and lives.
Many of us waste an inordinate amount of time attempting to prove our worth to parents, friends, ourselves and a host of other people who couldn’t care less and in some extreme cases are dead.
An interesting observation that I’ve made over the years is that anything that we dream up/create that comes from the needy-please-love-me standpoint always results in a colossal flop.
Anything developed and dreamed up from the perspective of : I will live from my possibilities and my belief in my own resources and the ability to create additional resources always gets the utmost respect and proper attention.
When I began writing about the rash of gay youth teen suicide and offered insight and suggestions as to what could be done this strictly was coming from a place of possibilities.
When I began creating from the standpoint of look at how clever and witty I am, things took a different turn.