If we refuse to do the work of creating our own personal version of the past, someone else will do it for us
A portion of my view on life and the world around can be summed up with this one passage from Sylvia Plath's journal which she wrote after a hike by the ocean when she was nineteen:
A serene sense of the slow inevitability of the gradual changes in the earth's crust comes over me. A consuming love, not of a god, but of the clean unbroken sense that the rocks which are nameless, the waves which are nameless, the ragged grass which is nameless, are all defined momentarily through the consciousness of the being who observes them. With the sun burning into rock, and flesh, and the wind ruffling grass and hair, there is an awareness that the blind immense unconscious impersonal and neutral forces will endure, and that the fragile, miraculously knit organism which interprets them, endows them with meaning, will move about for a little, then falter, fail, and decompose at last into the anonymous soil, voiceless, faceless, without identity.
This other passage taken from a letter John Keats wrote to his brother and sister-in-law, also allows you to traverse deeper into my thoughts:
The mighty abstract Idea I have of Beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness..., but I must have a thousand of those beautiful particles to fill up my heart. I feel more and more every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds---No sooner am I alone than shapes of epic greatness are stationed around me...
Also said by Sylvia Plath were these statements which I myself extened the meanings of to describe my artistic and creative mind, she described poetry as this:
I believe poetry to be capable of religious revelation as religion itself is not.
*she continued*
Religion is typically too contstrained by the systems and institutions that claim it; The progress of the soul is muffled as well by communal rites that draw the self into a group circle. The poet, however, travels solo, darting from sacred to profane and back and under and around...exactly as the pilgrim soul must in it's fundemental vow to "consent to the existence of the universe."
Again i believe that my creative mind whether it be expressed through an artistic spin in a drawing or a dance performance where i obviously place alot of emotion and passion into that performance, I believe these two statements give a partial definition of the importance of my minds art to me.
The previous two passages are a great definition of my minds view on the world around me.
only strengthening my simple and very general opinion of myself...
I AM AN IDEA
