Life is great at getting in the way of passions. We have commitments and responsibilities we must take care of before we even think about feeding our soul. At the end of the day that’s what passions and dreams are for; feeding the soul. Responsibilities are to feed the being where those passions are buried beneath all else.
We all have a fervor and enthusiasm to pursue something, and whether it’s attainable or not doesn’t matter so long as the pursuit is meaningful. Mine is to be a New York Times bestselling author. Is that lofty? Excruciatingly. But does that make my arduous dream all for naught? Absolutely not. Let me explain.
I can write my life away and never become a bestselling author; I might not ever even become a published author, but the voyage, the struggle, and the optimism make me radiate exuberance. The joy I receive when I painstakingly rewrite the same sentence for the tenth and final time after desperately trying to determine how to give it the most meaning is unmatched. Whenever someone reaches out to critique or compliment my work, I feel a justification in what I love to do.
Art is appreciated but not always cultivated. Its profession is praised but its practice is discouraged. Art isn’t practical in this society we’ve grown into where there is such an emphasis on money, but where art lacks in practicality, it makes up for in quality of life.
Art is more than just expanding the soul, it’s enhancing your mind and warping it to understand the world is more than just black and white. Art is what allows us not only to color inside the lines, but to break outside and see things as they have never been seen before. The sunset is multiple shades of different colors and trees are nature’s grandfathers, stoic and full of wisdom. Water can be both powerful and peaceful, just as fire can be destructive and serene. Music moves our souls, moves our bodies, in ways nothing else can. Art is what makes life worth living.
Our desire to create is often dwindled with age; sometimes the spark of creativity comes without the accompaniment of motivation. Those dreams and ideas that have been buried beneath our responsibilities try to dig themselves out from the grave we put them in. They make an appearance at the forefront of our minds, with temporary acknowledgement, only for us to send them back six feet under.
We are left separated from our aspirations of ingenuity by the barriers we place between ourselves. We tell ourselves we want to write more, we want to paint more, we want to read more, we want to create more, but we don’t. We stunt our own passions by constantly pushing them aside, and excuses fill the air rather than ideas.
“I’m too tired.”
“I have nothing to write about.”
“I don’t really feel like drawing right now.”
“I want to create something spectacular, but I don’t want to put forth that kind of time and effort.”
“It won’t be that good.”
When apathy and lack of confidence fill our mind, there is no room for creativity. Sit. Write. Draw. Sing. Create. Force yourself to create.
A passion for an art is an unstoppable and unwavering aspect of humanity if harnessed and promoted. The will to produce art for the sake of art is like a hole in a dam; once there is even the slightest outlet, eventually it will completely bust through and break down that barrier set in place.
Once this artist that is lost inside of us from lack of practice begins to create again, those dreams become enflamed once again and our soul is not only fed, but gorged.
Any love for any art not only needs to be encouraged, but pursued in any capacity. Never allow yourself to become the lost artist, just simply remain an artist (as if we aren’t complex creatures). Tolkein was right when he said, “Not all those who wander are lost.” Not all artists are lost, but all who are lost are artists.