I Can't Stop Crying

[Danielle]

For the last 2 months I've been crying every day out of either pain or pure beauty and love for existence. I doubt it's even healthy at this point. I don't know why I'm writing this post, seems kind of useless, right? 

I feel obligated to do so since I'm in this state of seeing things more clearly. Every single thing that you ever experienced, every tear, every negative emotion, every bad word,  every bad look, every heartbreak, every single fucking time you felt you weren't good enough, every time you felt you couldn't on living, is a fucking blessing! It is a part of  the endless beauty of this magical show called existence, that we could clearly see when we first encountered this mystery, but got so disconnected from. I'm telling you right now, whatever your situation is, you are so loved for having an experience in the first place! You are love itself, you are that innocent child that loved everything unconditionally. YOU ARE IT. 

No words, no analogies, no images, no songs and no millions of thank you's couldn't capture the endless gratitude I feel for having survived up to this moment in my life. 

I love youu all. Thank you thank you thank you

 

[Leo Gura]

Good for you!

[Joseph Maynor]

@Danielle Cool.  The day before yesterday I got a shot of excitement hit me like what used to happen when I was in my teens.  That giddy-burst of excitement for reality and for the future that zaps you, you know what I'm talking about.  It's a discrete, momentary, emotional zap or burst.  I haven't had one of those hit me in years.  I recall I used to have those quite frequently when I was younger.  It was noteworthy when it happened.  I was like, aw shit!  I haven't felt one of these in years!  It's a shame that we lose these little zaps of excitement as we age.  Reality becomes too hum-drum, too settled-into, too made-at-home within.  We lack those unsettled, half-naive bursts of novelty and anticipation that we had when we were much younger.  And now I crave more of these zaps!  I recall it was one of the best things about being young.  Everyday was filled with dreams about the future -- big dreams, and the sky was wide-open as to what I could be or what I could do with my life.  Like a blank-canvas patiently waiting, anticipating, expecting to be turned-into a masterpiece someday -- where my dreams were my reality and my reality was patiently-awaiting my dreams -- like a poor dog staring at the front-door panting, waiting for its owner to inevitably return.  The raw joy and power of anticipation!  I hadn't even realized I had lost this.  But then I focused on what I have gained since that time and smiled.  Oh, it's all so much of a journey, so much of a trip -- a story with the second-half still yet to be told.  And the relation between the first-half and the second-half of the story will be interesting to see.  This gives me anticipation to be elderly, to see the blunt, half-jagged strokes of my artwork exit the dream and fall into my lap like a tossed-toy.  Perhaps at this time I will  put this toy on my mantle-piece above my fireplace and stare at it sometimes with wrinkled-face -- blowing new life into the old dream by so doing.  Like an aging-musician listening to his old hit song years later with new ears colliding with old-memories.  At some point in the life-cycle of an artwork, the artist has to lay down the brush.  It's always fascinating to know when and where the final strokes should be placed on the canvas.  When is a work of art complete?  That's a fascinating question every artist faces.  I will get to see all of that in my own life in my elderly years and I look forward to it.   Why didn't he put a little more paint up there in that corner where it is all bare!  someone might ask.  What was done will be what was done -- the artwork by this time will have become artifact, a toy to be placed on the mantle-piece now -- or a painting to be hung-up on the wall in my bedroom over my bed, over my buzzing-head.

Edited August 17, 2017 by Joseph Maynor

[RichardY]

Guy equivalent.