A thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it.
-Zora Neale Hurston
There are these classic books that really stand the test of time. Our local bookstore has a whole shelf of them on display, unchanging. They were often books that were once banned or controversial. Zora Neale Hurston was one of those writers. Time and distance cannot shrink work of that depth.
Sweat, sweat, sweat! Work and sweat, cry and sweat, pray and sweat!
-Zora Neale Hurston
I remember where this idea of "can't do human" came from. I am pretty sure it came in the form of an Amy Schumer comedy monologue, though I may be mistaken because I haven't been able to find it. Those words do really resonate with me. The writing process only highlights that aspect even more, spending days and days writing about a world that exists only in my head and my thoughts. I was talking with a painter yesterday and she was talking about this lonely aspect of being an artist, the work is your companion. It is your journey alone. Being an artist places you outside of something looking in. But I think most artists have always felt that way anyway.
I was talking with another friend of mine about anxiety. She talked about the symptom of de-realization, where you feel that reality is this thin veneer, this paper thin illusion, which reminds me of Macbeth's, "Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, life is but a walking shadow, a poor player who struts and frets his our upon the stage..." I memorized the monologue in 8th grade and it has stuck with me. It is too depressing for me to finish writing out though. I memorized one other Shakespearean monologue at that time, one that is interesting for other reasons and I will talk about some other day. I think I've always lived in a state of de-realization. My life reformulated so many times in bizarre ways when I was young that I never really counted on a static reality. I think that is part of what I love about water; it's soft malleability. It just arrives where it is with no expectation. It can permeate any obstacle. I think all artists live in the state of de-realization to some extent. David Foster Wallace certainly talks about it. The artist yesterday spoke of it. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is very open about it. Yoga, meditation and writing all push me further in that direction. And it can make this "doing human" thing very hard.
Art can be such a force that time and distance cannot shrink it. So can literature and music, so can love. When I say "doing human", I am not talking about these things. I am talking about the things that make up the thin veneer of life that surrounds. Love, literature, music, art, etc..., these are things that ask sweat and tear and prayer of us. These things permeate. The "doing human" things are rigid and cannot permeate, they bruise.
-Zora Neale Hurston
There are these classic books that really stand the test of time. Our local bookstore has a whole shelf of them on display, unchanging. They were often books that were once banned or controversial. Zora Neale Hurston was one of those writers. Time and distance cannot shrink work of that depth.
Sweat, sweat, sweat! Work and sweat, cry and sweat, pray and sweat!
-Zora Neale Hurston
I remember where this idea of "can't do human" came from. I am pretty sure it came in the form of an Amy Schumer comedy monologue, though I may be mistaken because I haven't been able to find it. Those words do really resonate with me. The writing process only highlights that aspect even more, spending days and days writing about a world that exists only in my head and my thoughts. I was talking with a painter yesterday and she was talking about this lonely aspect of being an artist, the work is your companion. It is your journey alone. Being an artist places you outside of something looking in. But I think most artists have always felt that way anyway.
I was talking with another friend of mine about anxiety. She talked about the symptom of de-realization, where you feel that reality is this thin veneer, this paper thin illusion, which reminds me of Macbeth's, "Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, life is but a walking shadow, a poor player who struts and frets his our upon the stage..." I memorized the monologue in 8th grade and it has stuck with me. It is too depressing for me to finish writing out though. I memorized one other Shakespearean monologue at that time, one that is interesting for other reasons and I will talk about some other day. I think I've always lived in a state of de-realization. My life reformulated so many times in bizarre ways when I was young that I never really counted on a static reality. I think that is part of what I love about water; it's soft malleability. It just arrives where it is with no expectation. It can permeate any obstacle. I think all artists live in the state of de-realization to some extent. David Foster Wallace certainly talks about it. The artist yesterday spoke of it. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is very open about it. Yoga, meditation and writing all push me further in that direction. And it can make this "doing human" thing very hard.
Art can be such a force that time and distance cannot shrink it. So can literature and music, so can love. When I say "doing human", I am not talking about these things. I am talking about the things that make up the thin veneer of life that surrounds. Love, literature, music, art, etc..., these are things that ask sweat and tear and prayer of us. These things permeate. The "doing human" things are rigid and cannot permeate, they bruise.
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