I surround myself with creators. With people who imagine things and work to make them a reality. Ideas are the currency in which I usually deal and I absolutely love them. Stories (and myths) to me are incredibly important and I feel that there is a deep reservoir of knowledge that comes with our embracing the native elements present in them and applying them to our own lives.
In other words, I believe that art matters.
But, with growing frequency, I find myself seeing the state of the world and wondering if this is truly the best use of my time. Doesn't the world need food more than more popular music? Don't people need medical care, equality, human rights, water, and beyond?
How does the latest Radiohead album help them? What purpose does it serve to write a poem, or a song, a novel, or create a film? Playing a concert to a fawning and excited audience might be fun and feed the ego, but it does nothing for those who in the world who can't help themselves.
Many will argue with me and I understand what they're saying. Others tell me to build the platform through art and then use that to increase what I can do for others. All good ideas.
I suppose that, deep down, I suspect that I am only good at the art and that the art isn't worth a lot to a world that requires so much. This is difficult for me to process, but I need to be deeply honest with myself about it.
More than once, I have been ready to give my life to something I thought mattered, only to find that they were fairy dust; that the paths were nothing but stubbornly persistent theater performances presented in everyday life. Is it possible that art, that music, that words, that my entire professional focus, is the same way?
Or, is it all an illusion? This strikes me as the most possible of all of these ideas.
I have yet to work this out in my head and in my heart, but it IS being worked out. The answer is being sought. It will inform the next part of the story that I'm living.