So begins another weekend and as such, hitherto comes another quote to mark the event.
“In this poor body, composed of one hundred bones and nine openings, is something called spirit, a flimsy curtain swept this way and that by the slightest breeze. It is spirit, such as it is, which led me to poetry, at first little more than a pastime, then the full business of my life. There have been times when my spirit, so dejected, almost gave up the quest, other times when it was proud, triumphant. So it has been from the very start, never finding peace with itself, always doubting the worth of what it makes.”
I think most, if not all, writers, poets, artists, and creatives alike will connect with those words as we have each and every one of us had these very same thoughts.
Ultimately all we can do is to return to the page, canvas, workbench, etc of our chosen medium and continue to pour our heart and soul into our creations.
When all is said and done, it is not the admiration of others or the critique of our peers for which we express our creativity but for the sake of our own sanity and the comfort and release that it brings to our own minds.
Wouldn’t you agree?