Following up yesterday's post, I'm suddenly struck by the enormity of my situation. Whereas in the past work was , now, it's nothing.
Sorry to those of you desperate to find a job, or stuck in a dead-end or boring one but I can't help but express my feeling towards work.
You see, as I child, I was taught, brainwashed possibly, that work was the only way to live. Sadly, there were no artists in my life to show me otherwise. My uncle, a printer and bookbinder by trade, was the closest I got to seeing how art and life might morph together, but even he had to find routine employment which I'm quite sure quenched his thirst for creative expression.
Imagine it: all your passion, soul and spirit doing something that really mattered.
Well, might it not follow that if we did things with all our energy that we might also be able to invite a small token of appreciation?
I don't know. Perhaps when the money comes on stage, it kills everything else.
All I know is that if the future holds anything for me — and I hate to second guess what might be up ahead — it's doing something that, once again, ignites a creative spark, however that's expressed.
Much love, Ju