Hey you. Yes, you.
Stop looking around.
Quit looking over your shoulder. You're the one I'm talking to.
Hear my words through the dialect of this page.
Feel my emotions through an elaborate composure of communication.
My communication.
Do you see? Can you see?
I am like a box.
A box has four sides all appearing to be the same.
But are they really?
Is the symmetry of a box just an illusion from what you've been taught or has it become a mere expectation?
Not all things are perfect and what they seem. It's within these imperfections that make us who we are. It's what makes us different.
Can you see inside a box? Inside this imperfect little box I've placed before you?
As you're telling yourself "No, Bella I can't. It's just a box."
Try looking harder. Examine this box for a hole, a window, a way inside.
Do you see it now? Can you envision what's inside or are you only convincing yourself you can?
Like an impressionist I shall call myself Van Gogh and with the strokes of my hands I will paint a picture before you. A picture that's reminiscent of The Starry Night. Of course unless you are a scholar of the arts this means nothing to you and carries no significance. Yet to me, this box of being, it does.
Let me explain why. Do you know it's history? Van Gogh's history?
"Nope. Nada. Sorry, I don't."
You can stop shaking your head now because I am the writer and in this role I will tell you. For I am the creator of the words with which you read.
Let me say this, Van Gogh was notorious for being delusional, crazy as you call it, but to me he is a inspiration. Because like me he did not run from who he was but instead embraced it with self expression.
As for this painting, The Starry Night;
Yes, the painting of hypnotic swirls surrounding a dark, jagged mountain towering over a sleepy town. It's said this was painted while Van Gogh was committed into an asylum and is the view from which he saw from a window in the ward.
Art critics at that time discounted his work and viewed their characteristics as sloppy and childish. Deming them unworthy of notice unlike the more photographic and realistic paintings of all the normal, narrow minded, cookie cutter molds of society. Yet to him, this "crazy artist," it was a visualization of what he felt from within.
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How's that for art history 101?
Is the picture I'm painting starting to come together?
Is your mind allowing you to go where I am trying to lead it?
If it's not then you've become the box. Try to think outside of it. Outside of yourself.
Like a milk carton I will open you if you will let me. Open your mind and free your thoughts.
Why might you ask?
Because with a closed mind comes closed ways and if you are closed how can you let me in?
Close your eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath. Feel your chest rise and fall. Allow yourself to feel the beating of your heart, the blood flowing through your veins and the air moving around you.
Feel life. Feel me.
Now picture a dusty window. One that's covered in filth from years of neglect. Can you see through it? There's a luminous day that eagerly awaits to grace your eyes on the other side but the polluted dust of this intangible window denies you. Will you let it?
Now imagine a bag filled with boulders resting on your shoulders. It's heavy. It makes you weak. As your body shakes from fighting it's unforgiving weight can you move? Keep in mind you've been standing there for years, 31 years to be exact, do you have the strength to?
Only when you find the will will you find a way to move and in doing so you can slowly begin wiping away the grit on this window. But as you've been standing there all this time it's done nothing more than gather and form into a staggering thickness.
You're aware what's on the other side and you know what's kept you from it. But as you've struggled, while the years have gone by, you've grown tired, frail and hope has left you where you stand.
I know you are telling yourself "with all this weight I would have grown strong" but have you really?
While waging a war with yourself, a constant battle just to stay upright it's now mind over matter or is it? But if you're mind was not your ally and it's formation is now your enemy with which will you draw strength? Your mind, your body or your soul?
Remember the box? That little brown tattered piece of shit box? If you open it that's what's within. That's what's inside. A fragile, weak, skiddish little girl who's been reaching for that window all this time.
Can you see her?
She's been there all along though you couldn't see because up until now she hasn't let you.
If you knew you could, that the power within yourself could help her see the light, would you?
Would you help her or can you even find the desire within yourself to want to?
I ask you now to breath in the truths I have laid before you. Let it sink into your mind, into your soul and into your heart. Before you a picture has been painted. Will you discard it as childish and unworthy of notice or do you see a beautiful, elaborate, multifaceted work of art?
Stop looking around.
Quit looking over your shoulder. You're the one I'm talking to.
Hear my words through the dialect of this page.
Feel my emotions through an elaborate composure of communication.
My communication.
Do you see? Can you see?
I am like a box.
A box has four sides all appearing to be the same.
But are they really?
Is the symmetry of a box just an illusion from what you've been taught or has it become a mere expectation?
Not all things are perfect and what they seem. It's within these imperfections that make us who we are. It's what makes us different.
Can you see inside a box? Inside this imperfect little box I've placed before you?
As you're telling yourself "No, Bella I can't. It's just a box."
Try looking harder. Examine this box for a hole, a window, a way inside.
Do you see it now? Can you envision what's inside or are you only convincing yourself you can?
Like an impressionist I shall call myself Van Gogh and with the strokes of my hands I will paint a picture before you. A picture that's reminiscent of The Starry Night. Of course unless you are a scholar of the arts this means nothing to you and carries no significance. Yet to me, this box of being, it does.
Let me explain why. Do you know it's history? Van Gogh's history?
"Nope. Nada. Sorry, I don't."
You can stop shaking your head now because I am the writer and in this role I will tell you. For I am the creator of the words with which you read.
Let me say this, Van Gogh was notorious for being delusional, crazy as you call it, but to me he is a inspiration. Because like me he did not run from who he was but instead embraced it with self expression.
As for this painting, The Starry Night;
Yes, the painting of hypnotic swirls surrounding a dark, jagged mountain towering over a sleepy town. It's said this was painted while Van Gogh was committed into an asylum and is the view from which he saw from a window in the ward.
Art critics at that time discounted his work and viewed their characteristics as sloppy and childish. Deming them unworthy of notice unlike the more photographic and realistic paintings of all the normal, narrow minded, cookie cutter molds of society. Yet to him, this "crazy artist," it was a visualization of what he felt from within.
How's that for art history 101?
Is the picture I'm painting starting to come together?
Is your mind allowing you to go where I am trying to lead it?
If it's not then you've become the box. Try to think outside of it. Outside of yourself.
Like a milk carton I will open you if you will let me. Open your mind and free your thoughts.
Why might you ask?
Because with a closed mind comes closed ways and if you are closed how can you let me in?
Close your eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath. Feel your chest rise and fall. Allow yourself to feel the beating of your heart, the blood flowing through your veins and the air moving around you.
Feel life. Feel me.
Now picture a dusty window. One that's covered in filth from years of neglect. Can you see through it? There's a luminous day that eagerly awaits to grace your eyes on the other side but the polluted dust of this intangible window denies you. Will you let it?
Now imagine a bag filled with boulders resting on your shoulders. It's heavy. It makes you weak. As your body shakes from fighting it's unforgiving weight can you move? Keep in mind you've been standing there for years, 31 years to be exact, do you have the strength to?
Only when you find the will will you find a way to move and in doing so you can slowly begin wiping away the grit on this window. But as you've been standing there all this time it's done nothing more than gather and form into a staggering thickness.
You're aware what's on the other side and you know what's kept you from it. But as you've struggled, while the years have gone by, you've grown tired, frail and hope has left you where you stand.
I know you are telling yourself "with all this weight I would have grown strong" but have you really?
While waging a war with yourself, a constant battle just to stay upright it's now mind over matter or is it? But if you're mind was not your ally and it's formation is now your enemy with which will you draw strength? Your mind, your body or your soul?
Remember the box? That little brown tattered piece of shit box? If you open it that's what's within. That's what's inside. A fragile, weak, skiddish little girl who's been reaching for that window all this time.
Can you see her?
She's been there all along though you couldn't see because up until now she hasn't let you.
If you knew you could, that the power within yourself could help her see the light, would you?
Would you help her or can you even find the desire within yourself to want to?
I ask you now to breath in the truths I have laid before you. Let it sink into your mind, into your soul and into your heart. Before you a picture has been painted. Will you discard it as childish and unworthy of notice or do you see a beautiful, elaborate, multifaceted work of art?
