.art.musing.

I've been mulling over what it is that I want to do with my art, my personal art, for the last week. Not a terribly long time to be mulling over something, especially with how busy I tend to be, but one thought keeps popping up over and over - Why do I have to do anything with it at all?

At first this thought, this answer, seems to be simple, straightforward, and fairly obvious. But it's not. Because I do want to do something with it - but not for the reasons I ought to want to do anything with it.
Down to pins and needles, ultimately my goal is to be able to do what I want, when I want, and not have to need to work for an entity I don't believe in to live the way I want to. A step back further, and I don't even need (or want) to live the way I'm living now. How I ended up here, with a house and a fiance and a pair of codependent cats is unimportant, really. It's where I am, and I have to make a decision if it's where I want to stay - or if the life I have to live in order to stay here is the life I really want to live.



And I don't have an answer to that.
I do know that I want to live a life that means something; at the very least a life that means something to me. At the moment, I don't really feel like I've accomplished anything - not anything worth repeating. I feel like I've spent an inordinate amount of time living up to other people expectations, however inadvertently that might have been. And I'm a little tired of it all. Expectations.

So for a little while, I'm going to live a life that I want to lead, disregarding pretty much everything else. I'm going to do what i want to do, when I want to do it (with the exception to things I have to do - like pay bills, and go to work to earn the money to pay my bills). And I'm going to make myself stop worrying about what i want to do with my art, and just make my art. If I feel like it. Or go for walks. Or dig holes.

My art-making has been stifled for years because I got so caught up in why I was doing things, or what they were going to become, that I stopped letting them be, and then I just stopped. My best work, the work that I really feel passionately about (and then occasionally hide int he closet while I decide whether or not to set it on fire) comes from that achy place in my heart - it's made compulsively, without thought to end results. I need to open that place a little more. Maybe it will help me to let people in a bit more as well, maybe not. Once again - we're not thinking that far ahead. We doing. Acting. Reacting. And taking naps when we need them.

Eventually I will end up somewhere, internally or externally, and I'll know if it is where I want to be or not. Then we move or stay, based on that. Based on knowing. Not based on assumptions and expectations and fear.
No more fear.

I am a very very small creature in a very large Multiverse.
What's the worse that could happen?