Nothing is coming to me. My creative impulses have fallen down a deep, dark, stinkhole (but really, what time have you actually put towards your creativity in the last few weeks, pal?). There’s always these little voices in my head, complaining, arguing, but never encouraging. Why is that?
Money is my problem. I need money to pay for the time I need to write or do any other worthwhile endevour, like travel or ponder the existence of the universe. Why is that? I have a full time job to pay for my excesses and the financial responsibilities that hang over me like a giant guillotine blade that’s ready to deposit my head in a basket any moment (and what have you done to curb the spending nightmare buddy? bought new workout underwear? and what is your wine budget for the month? … time to think about switching to boxed wine). Why doesn’t money or wine grow on trees? (it does moron, think about where those boxes come from….)
Money, money, money – it’s the vicious gerbil wheel we live on. Lately, I’ve been putting a considerable amount of time in the world of money. Checking the price of this and that. Where is my money going? How can I make more money? And nothing pollutes my brain more than dirty dollar bills running through my creative process. This fixation on financial goals is blocking my creative output (whatever!! sounds like excuse number 3,746 ). Yes, money and art do not live in the same bed. Why is that?
Life is not about money (yeah right, keep telling yourself that, buddy) even though lately I’ve been praying like a man ready to vomit at the porcelain altar of capitalism. I’ve got to pull away from the iron finance fist of cash that can lull you into destruction. As Henry Miller warns, (nice hero there, bub, why not try an honest man like ummmm Conrad Black) “…to walk in money through the night crowd, protected by money, lulled by money, dulled by money, the crowd itself a money.” Money gives us a false sense of security. We think it will protect us, but it does not.
No, life moves outside of the capitalist fist. We need to direct ourselves towards life: family, trips to the mountains, wine, chicken wings, beer and other delectable hobbies. Again my pal Henry, “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” Creativity rests in the embrace of life. And getting sucked into the money game destroys our sense of the lush forest around us. There’s a reason it’s called can’t see the forest for the trees – money makes us see trees that produce paper not the forest, “..but what makes money make money?” Yes, Miller is right. Life is Art and the greed money lends itself to has no place in the portrait of our life.
It’s all about perception. We can listen to the negative voices around us (are you talking to me?). Or we can change our destination, “One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things” (Miller, again. Isn’t this a bit redundant?). Oh shut up.