Ugly Art

I haven't written poetry in a couple of days

Just been watching sunrises and sunsets

Walking

Spending time with Mary before she moves away

Living

Being

Walked 25 mins in the cold this morning to get a coffee from Holiday gas station

the cashier's name was Ruby Jewell, said her maiden name was Castle

said she once asked her Mother if she was on acid when she named her

I told her she has a lucky name

Watched the second part of Denis Villeneuve's DUNE adaptation last night

Lisan al Gaib! Long live the fighters!

Aren't we all walking a straight and narrow path?

A tightrope leading to our highest version of Self

On either side a pitfall

To the right, we become all that we are meant to, but have no humility

and so become golden idols

no heart no more

To the left, we shy away from our callings until we dry out into a shell of our selves

don't want that either

I piled up my old paintings from this past year

this 2023

They are the most chaotic, ugly things I've ever seen

I had a few up at a coffee shop for a time

A sign beneath each one read:

"Would you like to have this on your wall?

Let me know what this piece means to you for a chance to take it home."

See, I have trouble putting a price on my pieces, and hoped I would find them homes with people who resonated with them

I got one reply.

"I would not like to have this on my wall. It is dark and depressing. Chaotic and anxiety inducing."

They went on to interpret the meaning, which I appreciated.

I thanked them for their reply.

Oh, I got another reply as well

This one from a childhood friend

"I see a lost and broken soul. Come back to Jesus, brother."

That one I did not reply to.

Ugly art is important

I've come to believe this

It's the art that helps us process

helps us heal and grow

It's the birthing of our future selves

The hardest part—with ugly art

is that nobody likes it

leaves the artist feeling unwanted, alone

but this is a chance to let go of all of that bullshit

the needing to be accepted, loved

cuz that shit comes and goes anyhow

You healed. You were vulnerable.

That's all that matters.

Now make another piece.

And patiently await the day that you will find yourself painting out of an overabundance of joy.

Then people will love it. They will want it on their wall.

No, not you. The art.

You don't matter to anyone but those who hold you at night

those who share meals with you

those who you split rent with

those who you massage the knots out of their shoulders

those who you talk out of suicide

those who you watch movies with

those who you watch sunsets with

those who kick their shoes off in your home

and throw themselves on your couch

saying "come, sit with me."