Artists connect the dots— we don’t need to interpret the lines between them. We just draw them and then present our connections to the world as a gift, to be taken or left. This IS the artistic act, and it’s done every day by many people who don’t even think to call themselves artists.
–Amanda Palmer/The Art of Asking
A lot of the time, I will start writing a post because of something I read, or a song I hear. Something I see out living my life. Something will stick out. I like it. I don’t like it. Whatever. I see it. It is interesting in some way, like a semi truck with rainbows shooting out of its tire wells.
So I jot it down.
Then later, something happens that links me back to it, and I can complete the connection. This post isn’t like that at all. This post is just because I just read a book I pretty much highlighted in its entirety and I want to ramble on about it. I could probably just copy and paste the whole book into the blog and just write:
This. What she said.
It is a thought provoking book. A tear provoking book. You should read it. It’s called The Art of Asking and it was written by performer Amanda Palmer.
I don’t think of myself as an artist, although I am probably someone who would be defined as creative if you were the sort of person who liked applying labels. To use a dreaded phrase from school days, I don’t apply myself to any one thing enough to consider anything I do worthy of being called artistry.
Or maybe I am playing down my talent. That has been known to happen.
Or it could be false modesty. The infamous humble brag.
Or…
Or…
Or.
Anyway.
The book was full of “yes, yes, exactly, YES” moments for me. It seems like all I have done since reading it is send quotes from it to my friends or put them in my blog posts.
What resonated with me?
The essential human need to be seen and understood, even if we don’t want to be looked at. The importance of connecting people as well as ideas together. The importance of giving and receiving. The importance of just DOING something even if it scares the shit out of you. Being yourself. Living the life you want to live even if it means a lifestyle others would find uncomfortable. Asking for help when you need it. Accepting it when offered. Accepting that sometimes the answer is no. Radical trust, unconditional love and the challenges of living your life with those as a base.
And then there was all of the interweaving of the thread of trust, love and connection that lies over and above all the hurt in life that ran through the whole book.
That thread of connection has been on my mind a lot lately.
Things have been unraveling. Some I knew about, some I didn’t. The connections in my life that are genuine will never unravel entirely. Maybe they will. I guess I don’t really know–I like to think they won’t. I like to think that there are some people who are permanent. Everything is in a constant state of change and growth in life, including relationships. Hard as it is, those are good things. Change keeps us from stagnating. People come in and out of our lives, with positive and negative impacts.
There is a certain amount of natural ebb and flow to relationships, romantic or friendly, that has always been a little hard for me. I am not good at reaching out. If I don’t hear from someone, my immediate assumption is that I have done something to cause the silence. In trying to work on reaching out, I have been maybe too grabby. Balance hasn’t ever really been my thing, right?
So things have gotten a bit frayed around the edges. A lot frayed.
Reaching out to people is hard, but sometimes you have to.
Letting go of people you love is hard, but sometimes you have to.
Like in the book, you do it when it hurts enough.
Answers, you wonder?
No, not really.
What I wish for is to get to a place where reaching out is something I do because I can. Because I want to. To offer help as well as ask for it, and not only when it hurts.
Will I ever be that evolved?