on disappointment and self-definition
This year didn't go quite how I expected it to. Of course one can never fully prepare for:
- Death
- Divorce
- Friends moving
- Cancer
- Rejection
- Transition
- Disappointment
- Failed dreams
but even with that understanding, I can't help but leave this year feeling disappointed somehow. In her wisdom, my sister says that's the way things go...everyone has their onslaught of bad thing after bad thing and then things begin to turn around and life becomes easy and the good sticks around for a while. I feel that things are starting to settle, but I am straining my neck to see the part where the good sticks. It still seems unattainable, precarious despite there having been so much good recently.
For the last few months, I've given myself a lot of leeway regarding maintaining my artist lifestyle amidst full-time work. But this last week, I've been increasingly disappointed in myself for ____. I don't know what. Maybe not having enough energy, not taking care of myself enough, not calling my friends enough, not giving enough...but mainly, for not writing enough, for not shooting photographs enough. Today, I am sick of this disappointment. I want to dig deep and remember my wise, capable self. Today's mantra is this..."Self, I trust you with myself."
I took myself to coffee yesterday morning and while I thought I was going to read some of my favorite poets (recently Hughes and Arnold), I actually found myself reading my own journal. I forgot that one of the most beneficial things about journaling in the first place is re-reading your own thoughts...remembering as only you can where you have been and what have you processed. Remembering that you have been amazing and will be again.
Just as I was bemoaning the loss of my art, I stumbled upon something I had written a few weeks ago. It soothed my soul. Imagine, myself taking care of myself...this may sound basic to you, but I firmly believe that the ability to comfort oneself is not easy to come by.
2 November 2010
11:01 p.m.
"Thinking about art/self-perception. This summer, I felt as though I came into something as a writer - in that, I WROTE. I saw that to BE a writer, one must ACTUALLY do it. It was good, so satisfying and good. Thinking about now. I've not written in days/months/years it seems. Does this negate all I came to this last summer? I mean to ponder the notion of self-titles, of the DOING to being an artist. Is it as important or more/less so than simply the BEING an artist? Can it be so tied to producing? My gut says an emphatic "no." The doing NEVER matters as much as the being, but how to wrap my soul around the principle? Or is it a matter of timing? Can I have been because I DID and now am a writer even if I am not currently doing it? Is Dillard only a writer when she is working on something? No. She has done it in the past...there are tangible evidences of her having written. Does this undo her self-definition going forward? Does it matter then if I do it often? How often...every day? Every second? No, of course, no. So what matter is time, then? Is it even important to still title myself as an artist? And if so, to whom? I KNOW no one else cares how I title myself (and if they do, it doesn't matter, MY self-definition is not their business). I feel my soul here jerk, because I did fight so hard to find that definition. That I am now willing to let it be whatever it becomes, does that negate the past work? Is writing so true to my essence that it doesn't matter HOW I label it?
The DOING. I think it must not matter as it used to.
It's just...only ever...
THE BEING.
for me.
for now."
And so the truth is that I am done being disappointed in myself. I cannot do what I used to do when I was home all day. Who even says I am supposed to?
"There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again"
T.S. Eliot
And. So. It. Goes.
6 comments:
Um, I know you don't count your journal writings as "writing" but ... WOW.
That was remarkable to read. Brilliant. Eloquent. So incredibly well phrased. Simple proof that you ARE a writer/artist. The doing WILL happen, it has to happen because that is simply who you ARE.
Being > Living > Doing.
Dillard sure is fun to read when reflecting on being a writer yourself. I was reading "The Writing Life" while I was trying to get all my writing samples together and struggling with my statement of purpose essays for Graduate applications and she nearly killed me. I suppose I was hoping to hear her voice saying "You can do it! Just keep working." but I was simply reminded that in attempting to be a writer I was signing up for a lifetime of eviscerating self-reflection and proposing to set up camp at the edge of absurd insanity for the sake of a few silly words.
Maybe it was all supposed to be inspirational, though, as I came to a place where I could say "Fuck you Annie, I'm giving it a shot anyway." Willing to risk the absurd indeed.
Andrew,
I don't think it was supposed to be anything...inspirational or not. I think she just writes to give account of how it's been for her. I love that she thinks its absurd, and then still engages it.
just like Sisyphus.
Dearest One,
I am starting to see more and more the non-linear path of the artist: the stops and starts, pushes and tug of war that happens between, during and after a project is done, and by project I mean ANYTHING
that makes you feel like a conduit for a voice beyond your everyday.
I love reading your ponderings on the subject: they are brave, eloquent, caring and warm.
You have a real relationship with your art, both in time and heart, and the best part is reading your writing here on this digital page,
though-
I cannot wait to read something you publish someday. in a bound volume :)
We're all with you!
xoxoxo,
Allison
Nothing as useful as reflecting Mme Bookling...for what it's worth or not...I think you need to give yourself a break but I also do believe in "doing". It doesn't have to be every moment of every day but without doing...well?! things stay inside, right? You have a way with that pen and paper and you should put it to use with joy. xx
It's truly un-nerving to think that one isn't living up to expectations and supposed dreams. It can also be difficult to define oneself in a day and age when we all seem to be gears in the big machine that is 21st Century Americana. Maybe we're just supposed to "go with it."
Candace if it means anything, I don't know if I consider you more a writer, or writing itself. You are the Spirit of the Art, without question. Everything you've done, and everything you do is the definition of writing. I don't have enough room to explain further, but when I think writing, books, English, I think, "Candace."
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