Sunday, January 20, 2013

On being moved...

I spend a great deal of time alone - and I suppose this has led to more than average (whatever average might be) forays into self examination.  These lead to finding and then poking about in ones (mine own) faults and foibles.  One of my odder tendencies is to avoid seeking out many of the things that move me and that I love.  This would appear to be a contradiction - and it is.  So why?  Here's the deal - or parts of it, I think.

I fear loss of control.

I fear my own reactions.

I'm afraid of feeling too much, being overwhelmed - and then frozen into a rather catatonic state of mind.

In the case of viewing others artwork, I sometimes fear being influenced (another sort of loss of control) or by becoming impotent/immobilized by the enormity of creating work that is relevant and relative.

I'm not saying I cannot overcome these tendencies.  Otherwise I'd probably hole up and cut myself off from all media and communication and just make stuff in a vacuum - or never make anything more.  And every time something or someone really moves me, I'm happier and grateful for the experience.

 What moves me? Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah


  1. Ah well, we're always our own harshest critics anyhow. Sometimes exposure to the outside world tells us we're not as bad as we thought, and were, in fact, making mountains out of molehills (speaking as a champion molehill builder!).

    And a little Leonard is always good for the soul!

    1. Thanks for that, Roy. Why do I still think I'm the only one who feels the way I do? I should laugh at myself - and I do - but not often enough.

      P.S. I've moles, but they are tunnelers. I think I tend to be like them; sometimes seeing only my tunnel.

  2. It is playing with fire. But sometimes, if we are lucky, we are so moved, we don't care if we get burned

  3. (still smoldering after listening to Patti Griffin)

    You are so right. Thank you for reminding me.