This is a painting and poem about changing one’s perspective.
As Rick Rubin writes in “The Creative Act” in the chapter on “Connected Detachment (Possibility)”:
The outcome is not the outcome. The darkness is not an end point, nor is the daylight. They live in a continually unfolding, mutually dependent cycle. Neither is bad or good. They simply exist.
This practice – of never assuming an experience you have is the whole story – will support you in a life of open possibility and equanimity. When we obsessively focus on these events, they may appear catastrophic. But they’re just a small aspect of a larger life, and the further you zoom back, the smaller each experience becomes. Zoom in an obsess. Zoom out and observe.
The Artwork: Perspective
The Poem: Perspective (Ohnedaruth)
I’m beginning to wonder
if I have the settings
right on this thing…
Perhaps my mental aperture
is too damn wide —
the picture of my life,
absolutely ruined
by over-exposure.
Every memory a victim
of my very concerned chaperone-brain’s
flashbulb – BANG! – whiteout butcher job,
made with the hope that all past & future
mistakes stand corrected.
Turn the dial,
change the focus…
Okay, here we are,
a laser beam of thought
holding the other in place,
sharp blades of grass
fronting a mountain
of unbearable
compassion:
I’m a child, watching the world
being knit by maestras,
(String thoughts, fingers dance on keys, on color)
I’m fifteen, watching it
stretch and tense and strain
(a great dullness, a mouthful of dirt)
I’m a young woman, watching it
unravel in my hands,
(every silence, a crescendo)
I’m ancient, watching it all
be reknit from dust,
(a whisper, a shout, a song)
The creation of a doorway
from your pain to now,
all focus forward,
all eyes on
stepping out
of this shame.