Waves, war and art. Undulation is the nature of existence. The All is in a constant act of coming and going, with pause for staying; Climbing, Quitting, Camping. The war of art is in the in-between between the layers of the storm and its center.
When I exit the hurricane of thought in my head, move to the calm eye of center and enter a state of receiving, I am able to transmit. I am able to receive.
Communications break down in a storm. The elements control the channels and taunt us with their hold of power. We know that the state of the center of the storm is sweetest, but to get there requires displacement of fear. Getting to the center requires knowing that:
Living is an option. Death is mandatory.
If a message is to be known or shared, the best place from which to transmit and receive is from the center of the storm. If we can make it.
Observers, who sit and watch from afar in their pleather sofas, see that from above the storm is calm and beautiful. And below it is hell.
To get to the center we must battle the waves, wind, fires and debris that manifest inside and outside ourselves.
Even the mind and body have their own pre-programmed agendas.
Do I listen? No. The I, the intellect, knowing, Wizard behind the scenes in the seat of observation must snatch away the remote. Take command. Go.
War and Art
Like war, Art has long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of terror.
Like war, Art must be fought with the same focus, camaraderie, intensity, and patience.
We must know that glory is experienced but a fraction of a percent of the entire war. The love for the process of strategy, brotherhood, a shared objected are held above all else. Let civilians tend to their desks while the soldiers of art shine their torch on the glory of their truth.
We know that between battles time is afforded to reflect upon misery, joy, companionship, a longing for the easy days. Deep boredom. It is also a time to hone the mentality, feed the focus, calibrate the weapon, strength of mind and body.
This glory of truth that manifests to only the most patient, strong-willed, listening artist. The one who weathered the storm and battled to the center.
Art is war and calls a volunteer army of soldiers. Its secret is that only the special forces recruits will succeed in battle. The average soldier, crawling like a lost child into battle, will be relegated to a desk job to administrate the art of the general.
Are you willing to battle to the center to transmit your message? To face the dark, the winds, the waves and the other?
This is the first in a series of daily free-writes called ‘the Daily T’ Where T is the first letter of my name. What happens? I wake up, write in a journal, then type what happened here on the blog. Maybe it should be called Morning T. I drink coffee in the morning, but might switch to tea to be more meta.
What do you think?
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