Tag: muse

Of Art & Artists

Artists have earned a reputation over time. “The artist type” is a different breed- a crude, carefree, cocky, unschooled, impetuous, and volatile one. She might make you nervous or make you fall in love, but many a time, gut-punch you without warning.

You’re not scared of how grotesquely she dresses sometimes or how inconspicuously blends in the background. You’re scared of her mind. The intricate threads of thoughts twining through her being and the serpentine ravines of ideas meandering through her mind; her life force has sifted through ungodly dimensions. She has perceived nothingness and exuded the world. Her hunches have been so accurate, they’ve fostered superstitions and her eyes have locked with yours to make you feel violated.

Remember the last time you read something, and it reverberated so thuderously in the depths of your bosom you gasped? Or the last time you watched a live performance and forgot to clap because the reality of the artist seemed larger than your life? How many times did a painting remind you of your childish, forgotten dreams, and how many compositions have become a part of your personality, not because you grew up on them, but because you grew up due to them?

Artists are the ones feeling every raindrop melting on their skin and every crumb of sand singing their feet. She’s listened longer than you’ve spoken and seen farther than you’ve traveled. She has worn so many shoes quietly, hungrily, and inveterately; her soul has been the real “tramp” of the town.

So, are artists crazy or just a bit more human? In the world that we live today, we have succeeded to some extent, in normalizing getting in touch with our sexualities. I guess getting in touch with our soul should be normalized too. Oh, the faces you’d unlock and the world you’ll see! The best part is – a true artist always leaves the door open behind her. So, whether you follow her work or follow HER, you’re in for the revelation of a lifetime. And if you have a moment, take a long breath, think about what you’d do if you had infinite time and money was not a concern. Your heart already knows. This is just an echo from your heart to never lose sight of that again.

Thoughts on a plane

I’m flying to Phoenix this weekend for a quick getaway with my girlfriends. Well, Arizona is not something you plan for summer, but it was the only place that’d work for all of us, so here we are!
My work week has been pretty chill, that is, until today. I was slammed with meetings that continued through my ride to the airport until I boarded my flight. I’m mid-air now, and it’s a long flight from Atlanta. (Well, it’s only 4 hours, but 4 hours without internet isn’t pretty!)


I’m reading both Don Quixote and Songs of Fire and Ice and have been switching between the two books for 2 hours restlessly. Why wouldn’t the plot move along! I tried to get some shut-eye, but repetitive announcements make it quite impossible. So here I’m writing my thoughts down.

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A Harmless Dance

Every morning, after he left, I would rush to the window and watch him close the door behind. With my heart still beating out of my chest, I would recount the night again and see the sky blush until she would melt into a sea of sunlight. She was my friend and my confidante, and I loved mornings!

I would wait eagerly for the first rays of the sun to knock on my window sill, and as it seeped through the glass, I would retract my hand coquettishly. I would place my hand on the nook right next to the sill and look the other way until, like an old habit, I could feel the very first rays gently caressing my fingertips while the warmth slithered up my bare arms. I would pause a bit, and then offer the rest of my hand in submission.

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