The 1st.

“…In and through the personal rediscovery of the great, we find that we need not be the passive victims of what we deterministically call ‘circumstances.’ But that by linking ourselves with the great we can become freer—freer to be ourselves, to be what we most want and value.” —W.J. Bate, The Burden of the Past, quoted in Henry Thoreau by Robert D. Richardson, Jr.

Sometimes I feel lucky to have interests that seem to bore other people. I’m reading a biography of Thoreau right now, and it’s so wonderful. I know people like to criticize him, but his thought process makes me feel seen, understood. Like I’ve finally connected all these dots about myself that used to cause me vague embarrassment mixed with secret pride. I feel a powerful sense of self-recognition in the way he sees things. He and Emerson and Margaret Fuller and Goethe…kindred spirits, all of them.

I resonate strongly with his belief that human nature has not changed, and that what made the ancients great is also inside each of us. And not just that, but how he tried to live out the things he was discovering. Maybe he did that imperfectly, maybe arrogantly, but he was trying.

The 2nd.

“We mortals have a strange spiritual chemistry going on within us, so that a lazy stagnation or even a cottony milkiness may be preparing one knows not what biting or explosive material.” Daniel Deronda by George Eliotr

My curiosity has led me down this strange rabbit trail of being curious about plants in literature, particularly in Daniel Deronda. I’ve found several trees so far. I bought a $60 e-book. I don’t know if any of it is relevant or will lead to anything, but I’m excited to see where it goes.

I feel very spoiled, orienting my life in this way.

The 4th.

“‘Always try to keep a piece of sky over your life, little boy,’ he would add, turning to me. “You have a lovely soul, of a rare quality, an artist’s nature, don’t ever let it go without what it needs.’” —Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust

It is hard to hold space for my creative self when urgent obligations come up. I shifted into “be what you need me to be” mode for three days. But at least I’m noticing. That is a miracle in itself, to become aware.

I’m disappointed at how hard it is to prioritize art and my own heart in my life, but I’m not surprised. The challenging thing is to shift my belief around it. I need to deeply value my heart above all these other pressing (and ultimately unimportant) obligations. I must believe that it is rare and beautiful and real; that it is a distinct species that will become extinct when I am gone.

I read a beautiful line in a short story this morning—“It is not about reading only”. It was about books and how they are so much more than that. It made me think about art. It is not about the usefulness of art. It is not about perfunctory contribution. There is something more real, more true, more valuable in the heart of an artist than can ever be quantified. It has nothing to do with identity or vanity and everything to do with existence. “Beauty is embarrassing” as Wayne White says. And art is the most beautiful and embarrassing of all.

I feel compelled by that now, like I’ve never been before. My creative projects felt ornamental before. Taking that as my vocational path felt like a risk because I might fail to appreciate it just like any other “job”. It felt like dilettantism. Like I was just reaching for more ease and more “doing what I want”.

It no longer feels that way. I have recognized what is inside of me for what it is—an inevitability of who I am and how I was made. It is the grain of my heart, and I have been going against that grain, even as I was trying to have both safety and creativity. But now I realize that my heart cannot, cannot be compromised. It is unjustifiable in any other context than “I must.” Money is not bad, but it’s irrelevant. I will no longer try to turn the gifts of my heart into enough gold to bring me some safety. I will get that in another way.

I understand now that art is a wild thing, and must tell the truth or be silent.

The 5th.

Back in Virginia again. Today is my brother’s funeral, finally. We’re sitting here in leafy green country on the side of the road, not wanting to be early. I feel my social shields up. Who knows if they’ll hold, but at least I feel ready.

It is hard to come back here, months after going through the grief of losing Nathan. I generally like to close doors and keep them shut. But I know this is important, and it will be good to have closure.

This is a clear turning point in my life, and I don’t know what it points to. Everything is changing. It’s scary and it’s sad. I don’t know what’s next for me, but I do feel like I can’t live for anyone else any longer. The ways I’ve compromised make sense and are normal, but they were fearful. It’s time for me to be brave.

The 8th.

“Love your solitude and bear the pain it causes you with melody wrought with lament. For the people who are close to you, you tell me, are far away, and that shows that you are beginning to create a wider space around you. And if what is close is far, then the space around you is wide indeed and already among the stars; take pleasure in your growth, in which no one can accompany you, and be kind-hearted towards those you leave behind, and be assured and gentle with them and do not plague them with your doubts or frighten them with your confidence or your joyful mess, which they cannot understand.” —Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I need to surround myself with people who think about art as the heart of their vocation—I need that so much. Whether it’s being with other artists physically or having conversations or reading/listening/experiencing art, that’s what I need. And I need to not be surprised or worried when other communities feel foreign to me, like they’re speaking another language and I don’t quite fit in.

I want to value that part of myself so highly that I don’t worry at all when it doesn’t make sense to other people. Even though it’s scary because I’m just a fledgling in my own artistic powers. That really is the hard part—the identity part. I’m really good at other things that give me social credibility. I’ve spent 20 years developing those things. As an artist, I’m new and untested. The things I’m thinking about only have clear value to myself. I can’t describe a vision that other people can really hold onto. It just sounds self-indulgent. But I know that’s the path I need to both blaze and follow right now.

The 13th.

“There is a definable sequence of activities which are at the heart of all acts of building, and it is possible to specify, precisely, under what conditions these activities will generate a building which is alive. All this can be made so explicit that anyone can do it.” —Christopher Alexander, The Timeless Way of Building

The Timeless Way of Building is one of those life-changing books. I thought Thoreau was life-changing, but this is another level.

I want to create something that allows you to incorporate these ideas in the context of everyday life—they are relevant to so much more than architecture. It’s probably going to be difficult to put these ideas into my own words though. Christopher Alexander has said them so well. But I want to put them in a different context. It certainly isn’t about stating it better because that is impossible.

I feel like his Quality Without A Name is the new metric for my entire life. I just want to inhabit the world I am in with that quality and that’s enough.

Man, I have no idea where this path is leading me, but I feel like all the things that have held me back are falling away. I am exactly where I need to be.

The 18th.

“I want so badly to have a place where I can practice writing real poems. I’d like to have a room with four walls and a closed door. A room with a bed, a table and a chair, with a typewriter, or a pad of paper and a pencil, nothing more. Well, yes—a door I could lock.” —Tove Ditlevsen, The Copenhagen Trilogy

It is so hard to stay on the track of my own art and what makes me come alive. I keep setting those things down. My job is interesting enough to me to make me feel like I’m following my own creative path. I get so interested and absorbed in the research. But it’s a path that leads me away from the creative pursuits that are more fundamental to who I am uniquely.

I’m not super worried about that (I still want to be engaged & effective in my job), but I do feel uncertain about whether I’m following old patterns of trying to be what everyone wants me to be. It is hard to listen to my own voice when others’ voices are so loud. “You should do this.” “You’re so good at this.” “We really need this.” But even though those things might be true, I need to practice listening to what is truer.

The 25th.

“The more we learn to use this method, the more we find that what it does is not so much to teach us processes we did not know before, but rather opens up a process in us, which was part of us already.” —Christopher Alexander, The Timeless Way of Building

I just read The Timeless Way of Building, and I want to build a pattern language for everything now. I’m so impressed by Christopher Alexander’s thinking and his audacity in believing it might be possible to change entire cities based on these ideas. What a gift. And I can’t believe he wrote so much MORE than this. This isn’t even the work he’s most widely known for. I’m astonished.

The 26th.

“The most glorious fact in my experience is not any thing that I have done or may hope to do, but a transient thought, or vision, or dream. I would give all the wealth of the world, and all the deeds of all the heroes for one true vision. But how can I communicate with the gods who am a pencil-maker on the earth, and not be insane?” —Henry David Thoreau, A Week, as quoted in Henry Thoreau by Robert D. Richardson, Jr.

I’m so frustrated. Remember that day I woke up and was feeling like I was in an alternate creative universe? I was so blissfully playful, looking up plants in Daniel Deronda and buying books on plants in literature. So random, but it was so freeing to be doing something just because I was curious about it and for no other reason.

That was the last day I played like that, even though I’d felt so committed to making that kind of playful curiosity central to my days. Instead, I’ve set up a bunch of meetings at my peak creative times in order to be what other people want and need me to be. Even though I believed (and believe!) that me prioritizing that playfulness is the best thing for every project I’m involved in.

It was deceptive because I funneled all my creative energy into that, and I felt good. I have been more productive than ever. But I exploited my free, creative self in order to get that. And now she is nowhere to be found.

I’m also afraid of finding her again. I feel like if I do, I need to hide it from other people. I need to keep my performance at the forefront in order to protect that creativity. But that’s not me; I wear everything on my sleeve. And so I’m going to go through this cycle again and again and hope that I get better at defending and protecting that time.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve my free self. I just use her to make other people proud of me. I can’t be trusted. And what’s worse, I don’t know that it’s happening. Or I do, but I rationalize it. “No, this is me being free!” Yeah, sure. Because I abruptly turned from the playful direction I was in as soon as I was faced with someone else’s problem.

At least I documented this so I can see it now. But it makes me feel sick to my stomach because it happens so regularly. It took weeks to get to that space. It only lasted one morning until it was snuffed out. Now it’s taken me a month to realize it and start over again. My inside voices want to tell me that I will never be able to operate from a place of being true to my essential nature. If this is my pattern, I have so far to go. But hey, maybe a month is progress. It had been years before. Maybe the next time it will be weeks.

The 27th.

I’ve been doing some reflection for a class I’m taking on what I learned during the pandemic that I want to carry forward into the future. I don’t think “pandemic” is the right context for me. It’s really “before my brother died” and after.

What do I want to carry forward? The idea of slow, gradual, emergent change rather than reactive pivoting. My confidence in knowing what I know and being able to hold onto that with literally anyone. My sense of ownership and power. My discovery that titles don’t make you. It doesn’t suddenly make you feel worthier or more valuable. (The attention you get from other people is usually suspect. And often forced.) My lack of concern about my online presence. My discovery of my leadership style. My relinquishment of anything having to do with marketing or community.

What do I want to leave behind? I’m tired of centering other people’s needs and dreams in my own life. I’m tired of being practical; of trying to eke myself into the things I need to be doing. I’m tired of being driven by fear. I’m tired of carrying everyone else’s future. I want to center my own essential nature—yes, respond to the needs of others, but only on the sidelines of my life, not as the very thing I spend the majority of my energy doing.

I want to feel safe in my own self. That I can go anywhere, do anything and still be loved and supported and cherished. I want to lay down my lack of self-trust. I want to trust my body, trust my energy, trust my heart.

The 28th.

What is alive in me? Nothing. That’s the sad part. I gave it away so I could be useful. But there is the idea of something. Maybe that’s enough.