The Act of Being Lost (Part One)

I think that every artist experiences a feeling of despair. A wondering of, what am I doing? Where am I going? Am I doing the right thing devoting my life to this elemental esotericism? I don't have the answers for you, hell, I don't have the answers for me.

We, and I'm speaking in a contemporary sense, have this notion of being the tough guy. Of throwing down our gloves and ripping the barbed wire apart with our bare hands because it reinforces the notion of how tough we really are. It's stupid, I know. It's part of, at least in my mind, something I like to call the "John Wayne Syndrome". We want to have the pilgrims look at us in awe as we walk into camp, or limp, with a broken leg, no horse and arrows sticking out of our back. WE love that feeling. We LOVE that image. That man in pain, but still pushing on as if nothing is bothering us. We seem to have that need to walk through the valley of the shadow of misery, and let you know about every evil we thought we toughed out. And if you don't notice the cuts, well, we cut them deeper so you do. And then fake trying to hide them.

All that to say that, we have difficulty imagining others going through difficulty, we want to be the ones in the most difficult arena. You climbed Everest? Well I did K2. Twice. Without oxygen or sherpas. It's all a gigantic contest that ends up with everyone losing. C'est la vie. I guess. It shouldn't be that way. HOWEVER, before I digress again, I think there is this notion that the greats didn't wrestle with demons. That Shakespeare sat down and just spewed out Lear as perfection. I mean, we know that didn't happen, at least not with Lear. But we like to think so. Or that Tennessee Williams wrote his great plays between the bars. I'm sure he didn't succumb to writer's block for his whole life, or wrestle with the demons of "Proper" and "Mediocrity" (who are vile little creatures, and very different from each other) for life, but I'm sure they hit upon him in the dark moments of the night.

A great quote by Brecht

In reference to "Baal", one of Bertolt Brecht's early works, he wrote in a much later edition:

"For the present edition of "Baal" the original version of the first and last scenes has been restored. Otherwise, I have left the play as it was, not having the strength to alter it. I admit (and advise you): this play is lacking in wisdom."
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