miss understood

so the waiting is on again. the waiting seems to always be on in my life in one respect or another. but as long as i don't scrape myself across the mental cheese grater, i'm fine.

as long as i don't pin my worth on some damn book, i'm fine. as long as i remember, it is well, it is well. it is all well, i am fine.

i read this bit in a book i'm reading on creativity, by matthew fox:

When Picasso painted Les demoiselles d'Avignon in 1907, it created such a stir among friends and foes alike that he did not display it publicly for several years. This painting, today considered a masterpiece and turning point in the history of art, brought fierce opposition down on Picasso. He comments on the importance of taking risks:

Painting is freedom. If you jump you might fall on the wrong side of the rope. But if you are not willing to take the risk of breaking your neck, what good is it? You don't jump at all. You have to wake people up. To revolutionize their way of identifying things. You've got to create images they won't accept.

Only two dealers showed interest in Picasso's work, and one of them commented:

What I'd like to make you realize at once is the incredible heroism of a man like Picasso, whose moral loneliness was, at the time, quite horrifying, for none of his painter friends had followed him. Everyone found that picture crazy or monstrous.

i have long thought picasso genius. his disjointed perspective was utterly new. something unknown before him. how did he persevere with a vision others could not grasp nor even consider? how did he press on?

how will i press on? is my work the stuff of genius? or madness? that is not for me to decide. but i take these my cues from the masters and create something, i believe, worthwhile. whether it is understood or not. for that is what we do, artists, poets, saints. we risk conveying our whole hearts and being crucified for it.

one quote more from fox:

Otto Rank spent his life counseling great artists, including Anais Nin and Henry Miller, defines the artist in terms of death when he says: 'The artist is one who wants to leave behind a gift.' 'Leave behind,' he says. Why does he say that? The artist is leaving us, exiting, and knows it. The artist is not in denial about death. Furthermore, the artist is not exiting quietly. No, the artist is leaving us with a memory, a memorial, a painting, or a song, or a symphony, or a poem or a dance or an insight--but not just any memory, memorial, painting, song, symphony, poem, dance or insight--but one that can be recognized as a gift. There is a blessing to this left behind thing; there is a goodness to it; it is a gift, not a curse; it is a gift not a neutral thing. And why a 'gift'? Why do we deserve a gift from every artist who leaves us? well, it is not what we deserve. It is not a gift to us, though it is a gift for us. The gift is life itself. The gift is a thank you to life. The gift is to the life-giver, and, as Rank dares to say, the gift is always to God.

my gifts, then, are to God. all of them. if people enjoy them along the way, so be it. i do not hang my hopes on the praise of men.