On being born

Last month was my birthday. What a reminder. So and so many years ago, you were born. Meaning you exist, now. I’m still uneasy about celebrating my birthday. Probably because I‘m usually too distracted asking myself, so, how’s existing going for you these days? You know, who needs balloons or cake when you’re assured an existential crisis?

I haven’t been writing. The impulse to apologize is there but I won’t indulge it. I just haven’t felt like it. I mean, everyday I wonder if this will be the day, but all these days have passed without it happening. And it’s not like I didn’t need it. I’m sure I could have used the solace that externalizing my inner monologue brings me. But I guess I didn’t want to, not really, not enough to be doing it.

This is at the heart of something I’ve been obsessing with lately. Doing versus being. I’ve been having a lot of conversations about the purpose and definition of art, and the closest I’ve found that I can actually hear myself saying is: art is the expression of the self outside of itself. So it’s the doing of the being. It’s the product of the soul. The materialization of the spirit. Meaning there’s no doing worth doing if the being isn’t being.

Just as importantly, I’m also embracing art as not restricted to the “traditional” art categories, and not dependent on the “traditional” idea of an artist. I’ve said before that I don’t consider myself an “ist” of any kind, I just choose to embrace or reject ideas or actions associated by “ist” words (feminist, capitalist, humanist, activist, etc, etc). I’ve also said before that I don’t believe there are murderers, only people who commit murder. Well, maybe same goes with artist. There are no artists, only people who make art. And that could be, how they write or how they see life, or how they sing or talk or cook or dance or love…

Isn’t it funny, I’ve spent the last two years defending myself as an artist, and what I do as art, as if my life depended on it and now, I’m basically trying to explode the concept altogether. Maybe freedom seeking is never a done thing.

I don’t know who still reads this, or what it might still mean, but to any other soul out there, I say a very artful heartfelt hello, from my existence to yours.

11 thoughts on “On being born

  1. Haha
    Well of course I am still reading your writings. And I like the concept of art without being an artist, but that said, I think for convenience sake a maker of art is still called an artist. But of course, art is a difficult item too. What defines art? Are my drawings or your doings art? Who decides it is or not?
    Most art is also judged by the quality of their workmanship. Is it good enough to be art?
    Anyway, I will continue doing as I do, if only for myself.
    I do hope you will do the same!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I doubt I’ll stop using the word artist, I’m just enjoying tearing some of these concepts apart. Mainly to try to expose what it is I’m looking for…


  2. Hi Rain.
    Yes, I still read your thoughts. I’ve read all your posts here and… wow… some of them are so deeply heart-touching! I find interesting the words of who has still questions about him/herself; often the answers kill the magic and mistery carried by questions. Thank you for sharing your words and your feminine art: I apreciate both very much. I beg your pardon for my english – I’m from Italy and it’s not my mother language. I wish you the best luck for your search for what you still haven’t found or expressed about yourself.
    Have a sunny and interesting day. Ciao.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi there, thanks for your thanks! I definitely hear you on the mystery, plus some of these questions are truly unanswerable… Maybe that’s why I still like asking them. I’m glad to have made your acquaintance, ciao! 😎

      Liked by 1 person

  3. This was really timely to read for me. I’ve been feeling the same way. I too have not really been writing and what you say about doing versus being nailed it. That is exactly what I am going through right now. I had kind of a breakthrough of sorts recently in my therapy-a realization that I’ve never allowed myself to be…myself in many ways. And once I realized that, I started feeling better about certain areas of my life. Its not perfect, but its different. I hate ‘ists’ and ‘isms’. I unfriended someone on FB recently who spends all his time there engaging in talk of them, including some I’ve never heard before. I can disagree with his opinion, but it was his obsession of living in the world of identifying everyone who he disagreed with by those terms, yet feeling perfectly comfortable (and convinced) that his terms for himself were the true path. And I could no longer tolerate that his bullshit meter was off the charts and so self-indulging. The point to this is that you and I are right to keep challenging ourselves and our perceptions. And I think that people always should.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. It is very hard to keep questioning everything, sometimes it feels like not having any ground to walk on, but some other times it feels great, to know you’re not trapped by anything, and that questions are welcome, not threatening. As for being yourself, well, that’s a hero’s journey alright!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. So true. I’m walking that tightrope right now without the balance pole to help so its equal turns exhilarating and frightening at the same time! As to just being myself, to use that tight rope metaphor again, I think we always want to be that way, but that first step is a doozy!

        Liked by 1 person

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