day four: art, or something like it

I don't really feel like writing right now. After three days of writing, four days of thinking, five days of living my normal life, I am exhausted. I just got back to my apartment, sopping wet and covered in sand, after a swim in the ocean. Now, I'm sitting on my couch in very worn in sweatpants, drinking tea, wondering if I have anything left to pour out.

Libs challenged me to five days of writing, and yes, it is exactly that: a challenge.

I've never been one to sit down and effortlessly create something beautiful. Who can explain the bounds of art? Certainly not me, though there are a few things that I do know. With art, whatever form it takes, is a constant pouring out and pouring in and it is rarely, if ever, effortless. In every work of art, you place a part of your heart, details of your life, fragments of your identity. You are creating something out of yourself.

You can find pieces of a musician in his songs, pieces of a painter in her portrait, pieces of a dancer in her choreography.
You can see pieces of a poet in his sonnet, pieces of a designer in his graphics, pieces of a chef in his menu.
You can find pieces of me in these words.

And knowing that, for the sake of art (however novice I may be), I cannot simply write for the sake of fulfilling today's "blog requirement," but that I have to give myself to what I'm writing, give myself, at least in part, to the reader, to my words.

It's never effortless for me. I always approach hesitantly, and tread lightly.
I want my words to be bold, compelling and authentic.
That is what art should be. I don't know that this blog, after five very long and very full days, can be art. It can be an attempt, but I'm afraid that I've given myself away to too much this week. There is room for little else but sleep.

I gave myself to an African drumming class in Balboa Park.
I gave myself to preparation for mural after mural.
I gave myself to days 1, 2, and 3, to books and cooking, to presentations and event planning and the capturing everyday moments.

I wish that I could say to myself, "create," and my mind and body and soul would unite to do exactly that. I wish that I had constant inspiration, constant energy to pour myself out, again and again, for the sake of creatively presenting my reality with boldness and authenticity. I was made in the image of a creative God, this I know for sure. I want to create art in His image, but I am only human. I want to create art, but I'm absolutely utterly terribly completely exhausted. I'm not sure that I can give any more of myself tonight. Good thing the challenge ends tomorrow.