It’s
funny how variable one’s feelings about life can be. Obviously, I’m talking
about my life and how I feel, the only experience in the world I can have, but
in the interest of seeking, if not universality, at least confirmation from one
other person, I asked David how he felt.
“Can you
put the question more precisely?” he asked back.
Well, I
told him, I’m thinking about whether or not one’s life feels meaningful and
satisfying or just plain foolish and a waste of time, and for me a lot of that
(this winter, anyway) has to do with how my writing is going.
When I
have a day or two of the writing not going well, that is, when I’m not happy
with my words, no matter how many I’ve churned out, my whole existence seems
pointless. I ask myself what meaning there can possibly be in living this way,
occupying a private dream world, peopled with fictional characters, day after
day. Why am I struggling so hard to describe appearance and clarify the
emotions of people who are not even real? Who cares? No one! If I were to give up this entire project, the
world would never miss it, so why go on?
Then the
next morning it goes well. A complex character emerges into the light, the
scene around him illuminated, as well, and I’m pretty sure other people,
potential readers, would be able to see it all just as clearly as if they were
watching live actors on a theatre stage -- or their own neighbors at home and on
the street. Now I feel on top of my personal little world! No one else has read
the words yet, no one else knows the character, but I know him, and I care
about him, and there he is! If no one else cares, I still do!
And
that’s the thing, I told David. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. When
it comes to the rest of the world, I am not cast down by rejection or puffed up
by praise. I don’t really give a rip what anyone else thinks: it’s only how I judge it that
determines my satisfaction or dissatisfaction.
“That’s
pretty egoistic, isn’t it?” I remarked as I was laying this out. Not
apologizing, you understand, just saying. I mean, it isn’t that I don’t see my
feelings for what they are.
“It’s
pretty much the way I feel about painting,” David answered.
We talked
about that some more. If a person is going to be swayed by others’ opinions,
David says, which others will determine the value of the work? People will not
agree, and the artist will always be changing course, trying to please
everyone.
Yes. And
besides, I chimed in, what standards are others applying? Do they have
standards at all, and if they do, are their standards mine?
Again,
the double-edged sword, the two-sided coin. Laboring in obscurity, without
obvious recognition or reward, creativity can have the satisfaction of being
true to itself, and that’s the bright side of the coin.
Of
course, when I’m around horses I’m not thinking about any of this stuff and am
simply happy to be alive!
