sitting in the park outside office where i work, on
lunch break. shadowy day, few droplets of rain in the
breeze.
was listening to ambient albums earlier while working.
it's fascinating to me all the directions that art can
take, how approaches to the concept of art or
making are countless and can vary not only from individual
to individual, but also from moment to moment or era to era,
in the practice and thought of any one of us (or any culture,
any time).
i am starting to feel like the music i've been making
may actually reach an albumable state soon. i am trying
to overcome an 'imposter syndrome' mindset, where i feel
like there's some unreachable standard i have to summit
before i can call myself an artist.
i completed an mfa creative writing program, over a decade
ago now (hard to believe). it's been a process to overcome
my sense of spiritual failure--a sense i was not being
who i'm meant to be, because i put down writing.
somehow music is healing me.
i am grateful for my partner's relentless (sometimes almost
aggressive) encouragement. i ofen need to be shaken out of
my self-doubt, and it helps to be forced to acknowledge the
ways i can self-sabotage. i have taken risks in the past
couple of years that i didn't feel i deserved to take, and
they have been so fruitful, even if also painful at moments.
i'm writing this later, at home, after we worked on the yard,
after i got home from work.
earlier, in the park, the rain
had densified into a more persistent mist, sending me back
inside.
here at home, i helped him assemble the shed he's making out
scrap wood, and i pruned the evergreen bush that's been
obscuring a window.
i worked on music for a couple hours after he went to
bed, and now i'm done.
