My sister is an artist. I don't mean that she is creative, which she is. I mean that she is an artist by profession. She makes her living creating art. The idea of making a living as an artist is both frightening and alluring. Expressing yourself so freely can also leave you vulnerable. It also promises fulfillment. I have spent the better part of 10 years trying not to be vulnerable. The more protected I am, the less fulfilled I am. I’m trying to fix that.
I listened to a podcast featuring Rainn Wilson, from The Office. He has a website, Soul Pancake, which is designed to talk about spirituality in a relevant manner. He also practices the Bahai Faith. One of the things he believes is that creating art is as godlike as you can get; that creating something is akin to god creating us; that self-expression is a revered thing. I didn't mention this to get spiritual, as I have no clue about my own spirituality. But in thinking about creating art from this perspective, having all of these feelings about being an artist made sense. Of course I would be scared and allured (and everything in between). Creating something personal and trying to share it without exploiting is a challenge. Sharing a piece of yourself with the world leaves you open to criticism. It leaves you vulnerable.
My sister asked me to contribute toward a project. My mission was to write about a specific memory. I could think of nothing more personal than to write about this particular experience. The process wasn't uncomfortable, as I expected. It was liberating. In writing about this memory, I gained insight that only time and experience could offer. I also was able go back in time and relive a wonderful experience with someone who was very precious to me. At the end of our session, I had gained far more than I risked. The process of writing is chipping away at my carefully created protective barrier.
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