When art meets a heavy heart

What is this addiction to change?
What is this addiction to change?

What’s true and what isn’t? Who’s real and who isn’t and why do we spend so much time trying to find out? We should just know when we meet someone if they are for real. We should just feel in our heart what’s true and what isn’t. Instead we spend much of our day fact-checking our favorite people and our most important beliefs. I am surprised by HIS behavior and HER taunts and afraid that the decisions I made about hormone replacement therapy will kill me.

Indecision and confusion prevent me from staying focused on my goals. My goals get fuzzy and often change. I change. That’s the biggest shock. I change…a lot. I change from year to year, and my goals list looks like someone else made it because someone else did. I did, except that isn’t me, now. I’m amazed at the speed at which I can change. Evolution prepared me for this, I suppose. I spend the most time fact-checking whether or not I am me. The idea of me is a foggy one. I can only kind of see it out of the corner of my eye when I am in relationship to others. How does she act? What does she say? Do I agree? Is she right or is she deluded? Do I like her?

I am bored and restless. I am the ficklest of the fickle. Shall I finish this mosaic or move on to something new? I paint the walls carmel and crave white. I bring in red, but yearn for blue. I won’t be held to the same desires day in and day out! What is this addiction to change?

I spent the last few days shredding papers. My husband insisted I deal with the boxes and boxes of tax receipts and records I’d put away when I moved in with him 20 years ago. My past life. It is depressing to see your life as a series of cancelled checks from the grocery, the pizza parlor, myriad doctors and the hair salon and realize your current checkbook looks exactly the same. So which is it? Do I want change or am I going to live the same life over and over for the next 25 years? I’m no Gauguin! But I wish I could be a little hedonistic for a while. My art could change as I change. How freeing that would be!

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2 thoughts on “When art meets a heavy heart

  1. Perhaps this ever changing state is related to the fact that you spent so long in one place that made you miserable. A cat trapped in a cage for an hour won’t stand still when let out – perhaps you are running around and stretching after your confinement.

    The sea changes moment by moment. Sometimes it sparkles, sometimes it broods darkly, sometimes caresses the shore like a lover, sometimes it pounds relentlessly till even the cliffs crack. But it’s still the sea.

  2. Yes I remember my mom, who had always been adventurous as a young person, as very restless in the role of housewife. Even though it was what she thought she wanted (the 50s dream of being settled), it was unsatisfying. So she was always doing things to the house, moving things around, painting, putting up a Japanese mural on the wall. Color was very important to my mom and is to me too.

    Yeah, too, if I am the like the ocean, then the captivity I’ve endured (continue to endure) makes me a tsunami. I’d better watch out!

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