The accompanying text with this vid was the predictable You've got to dance like there's nobody watching/Love like you'll never be hurt/Sing like there's nobody listening/And live like it's heaven on earth. Sure, that's all good too but I was thinking there was even a better metaphor in here for writing (or whatever your art):
You've got to write (or whatever) like it's your reason for living. Write like it's your celestial mandate. But most of all, write for yourself. The woman at the bus stop was likely on her way to her drudge job (judging by her attire) and yet somehow found a space in those last moments that were hers before boarding the bus to find herself in the music.
As I'm still recovering from the beat down of my last critique (which was justified, I'm afraid), it's easy to surrender to my disappointment (and pain) and take myself somewhere far away from it all. (Heaven knows I've done it before.) The impulse is to let myself go somewhere where there's no writing, where no part of myself is available for others to tear apart. But ultimately that kind of somewhere is nowhere, and nowhere only multiplies more nowhere.
The world already contains too many nowheres as it is.
Through art we find ourselves? Well, let's live like we do.
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