Sunday, August 8, 2010

The Dreamer




The Dreamer

My life begins when I paint. Life becomes more interesting when I create a world of my own, full of magic. My conscious mind is aware of the dramatic change that occurs when I day dream. It is not a loss in movement or delirium but a response to a given moment where both my mind and vision create what I desire to see. I can look up in the sky and see a face forming within the clouds or horses running wild. I am driven in the illusion that fulfills the existence of living. I think without it as an artist will be an empty space of pure chaos.

The only way my dreams can come to life is to give voice create what is truly in the heart. There's nothing more beautiful then that, except for all the things that surrounds us making the illusion more exciting and real. We are all children but bigger though complicated as we all appear at times. We seek for happiness, not the happiness of someone loving you even though that emotion that feeling is worth living for. But the happiness I'm talking about, is the kind of happiness that makes you smile when you wake and the one that tucks you in peacefully at night as you fall asleep. Because you know you are truly living your dream, what ever that may be - A poet, the writer, the musician , the doctor, the traveler, the singer, the gardener, the artist, the photographer, and more. To know that means everything! It is then when we can receive and give the kind of love honestly and openly. And we can intimately share it. The sun is brighter, the days are lush with green surroundings, the humming of birds is like music that follows our path. It is all a state of mind. Is what makes every moment worth living for. Let's dink it, smell it, taste it, touch it and bathe in it. So the joy to paint what is truly there in my eyes and heart never stops never ends and if it did, I would be lost. Lost in a mundane routine that says we are not living but busy settling. And that in itself is a destruction a disloyalty of my purpose.

I was once called a wasteful dreamer because I was always dreaming. And that for others meant I was living too far into the future. They did not understand what my day dreaming was about. I was dreaming sharing moments of what could be possible in a world where awful circumstances took place. For me dreaming was a tool to get me where I wanted to be. Dreaming was the only thing that can fade the negative murky air as I walked through the allies where some junkies filled their thirst with heroin. There were moments when I couldn't help myself but feel the gloom take over as I passed by watching . I went home and cried. The death in the man's eyes brought sadness and a memory of a dear friend I once knew. To feel how lost those have become made me realize how important it is to day dream and paint. That motion of feelings that took place simply because I felt it deep into my core. The pinching feeling, blood spurring out of the skin, dark vessels trapped rotting swimming in urine. And then I can hear him, help me help me, I'm dying and I'm scared. I'm lost and I can't feel my life only that the world is living without me. I felt him say that and as impressionable I am, I felt his pain. The end

And so yes, I'm a dreamer!
And dreaming makes my life living well and I like it just fine.