Compassion

Putting love where it should be

If I could transform the hatred in my heart for what you do into chisel strikes, with each flake of stone representing the love for you I hold onto when you treat me like this, then maybe the sculpture could represent my compassion for you.

If my pride could be the hammer of nails onto a chalk board, slamming my shames into the wall behind it, then maybe the dust that mixed with the plaster and slate at the bottom of the wall, could be my humbled tears…for you.

If the leaping that I’ve done into the pit of misery isn’t enough, can I at least now give you what I know, in the interest of the ledge being something you begin to acknowledge with hope?

I’ve waited all my life, anticipated tomorrow as a plan to do the same, and see in this moment, my purpose in the satisfaction of loving you.

If I can take all my anger and turn it into a match, lighting my frustrations up with the air of my fears, stoking the fire of me with the kindling that is our reason for caring at all, maybe then I can build the wall I need, to be who I am without worrying what you think.

If you could see that the wall built with the rocks of me saying no, is my best attempt at protecting your potential to shine, then maybe we could be together again.

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Art Duty: Doctor Appointment

I’m grateful for an idea a friend shared with me, that helped me on this search for healthy identity. He told me, “riding the roller coaster of life, at the top you have pride, and the bottom you have shame, but in the middle you meet humble.”

He was struggling to maintain the discipline needed, to live in a spiritual community at the time, and had come to visit me(oxymoronic for sure).

We were sitting in the top of a tree. He wanted me to stop talking about poop, and what he labeled “low base” words. I got angry from my gut, and told him that was ill, and he should talk to somebody else.

Is a thousand words (a picture) long enough for a doctoral dissertation?

I’ve done my best to conform to my art duty, by giving you eight rough versions of my application for certification. The first one will do, if you want the big picture. If your computer is a smart phone, I’ve given you slices of the theory like pieces of truth to me cake.

To gain the intended benefits of my labor, I’m prescribing a full sized screen, and a bag of popcorn(or other masticatables), so you can gather the meaning of what I hope to place in your reservoir of thought, for the common grace of all.

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20140114-124645.jpgThis was the root drawing, and the start, of why I consider this website (or just the first pic) a doctoral dissertation:

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Since I was a child, I’ve struggled to identify with being an artist, and not get lonely, feel miserable, and want to abandon the whole thing. Unfortunately for some, this is precisely what happens.

This is fourteen years of studying “bipolar(otherwise known as good and evil, black and white, or regenerative and degenerative), “manic depression”, and mental illness patterns, in my self, and others, in a picture.

I’ve read, written, practiced, and developed, many ways to cope. The middle ground is the best medicine I’ve found. The most common friends I’ve found there are animals,service people(all kinds), elders, kids, and the spiritually insightful. As I see it, i’ll either balance out, stay on a plateau somewhere between enthusiasm and grounding, or be put in the ground content that I did my best to heal.

I have accepted that depression is part of me. I am sad, and sometimes, I am miserable. I can feel your misery. It’s inside of me like the need to eat. It’s not going anywhere, and I love that it helps me to recognize, that the world is not me. I am not the center of the universe.

Depression was one of the primary causes and costs, of my education. It might just be, the best thing that ever happened to me, when I see a glimmer of what I intend as medicine, bringing hope out, in somebody else.

We live in depressing times.

I hope this helps you in some small way. I hope my years of fragile moments in self pity, where I’ve curled up into a tiny ball, ashamed as I lost weight, and wanted to die, can in some way, benefit you.

Media I Love seems to be a reflection of that. It was so easy and fun to make….because I’ve managed my ill thoughts by reading books repeatedly, watching movies I love, drawing a picture, turning up the music, dancing till I fall down, picking myself back up, and finding more art to sing to, more artists who can relate, more people who live on the edge of “o my goodness, thank the heavens for music and art.”

I’m late for a counseling appointment with a shower, a sauna, a shave, a beer, a pool game, a juke box, and a meal. I hope this helps. To your health and happiness farewell.

© 2012-2014 Benjamin 0 ?

http://www.copyright.gov/fls/fl100.html ?

I love words, especially words I can relate to. Words forming symbols? New for me, and I dig it.