Autobiography

Compassion

forestforthetrees
Forest for The Trees” © Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, 2014. a softer world.

Florence Scovel Shinn said, “When you send out real love, real love will return to you.” I think that’s the only way you receive it. You get out what you put in. You see the things you’re looking for. It’s easy to forget. Fall victim to the idea everything is cruel. Fail to realize there are kind things, too. You just stopped seeing them. It becomes ingrained. Accidental habits. Maybe that’s just one of the those things depression does to you. Rolls the fog in. Puts the blinders on. When you’re hurting it’s hard to see the goodness in the world.

It’s hard to see it happen, though. I understand. Bit by bit the softness goes away. Sitting in a room, having a conversation. You don’t notice the sun going down until you can’t see the person in front of you. As if the night landed all at once. When did this happen? When did I become so hopeless? So negative. So angry. Continue reading →

Personal Development

Filler

"fiddler's green" © Harold Lloyd, 2009. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
fiddler’s green” © Harold Lloyd, 2009. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
We keep looking for “the thing”. Something that will make us happy or explain why we’re miserable. A mysterious action or habit or new discovery that will make everything else fall into place. I keep thinking I’ll be able to define a part of myself I can pin everything else to. Scaffolding. The active ingredient of my person. Everything else is just there for filler. Continue reading →

Writing

Different Light

"Night Light" © Doug Wheller, 2011. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
Night Light” © Doug Wheller, 2011. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
“When I’m painting regularly I start looking at the world different. I notice the way the light hits a tree. I see shadows between leaves. I see the gradual change between shades of green. I notice all the little parts of it. And then I see the whole tree.”

How we spend our time doesn’t only change the time we’re spending. It bleeds into everything. Your existence becomes tinted. Our thoughts, our habits. We reflect them back to ourselves. Constantly shifting. Our creativity is like any muscle that grows or atrophies depending on its use. A central theme to build around. Something to color everything. Continue reading →