Spotlight on Writing
It’s a tough world out there.
The world we live in is centered around productivity. Efficiency. It’s need driven. But all of this doesn’t leave much room for the inner artist; feeling, growing, reaching. It takes time to grow, and time is the one thing everyone seems to want and no one seems to have.
Artistry is unique from the perspective that although you finish with a product, while it’s still in creation, it is not a product but a journey. Anything you create is a little bit of you. It’s energy and time and devotion. Still, sometimes the closest people in your life can seem discouraging: They are seeing only the value of the product, and not the journey. It’s a common mistake of an amateur artist, too. That desire to create something that sells. Something to share.
Of course, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t driven by this need myself, but I’ve learned to recognize the journey as the most important step. If it wasn’t for the journey, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be writing. I would have given up.
Because in the journey, I’ve learned about my values. I’ve learned what things are important to me. I’ve learned to be tenacious, and fight for my dreams. I’ve learned that the happiness I get from writing is far more precious than any sum of money.
So what can you take from this? I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s dreams saying they’ll never be published, or never make it big. Quite the opposite. But in those moments when you have doubts about your dreams, or when people try to squash them down, don’t forget the real reward: The journey of the artist.
Look at yourself in the mirror, and nurture the artist within. Allow them time to grow.
Because I’ve finished my exam and have been stuck at home, I’m fresh out of embarrassing stories this week. I’m patiently allowing myself time to rest and recover from study before the next course begins. But in the meantime, I leave you with my favorite poem by Rudyard Kipling, and some photos of handmade jewelry that I created last weekend.
'If' By Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!