I don’t think you can live wholly without art. 

Art requires you to think and reflect. For obvious reasons, sometimes that is the last thing we want to do. In such instances, we turn to automatic tension relaxers, such as big box office spectacles and unthinking music.

All this is fine and necessary. The problem of course comes when that’s all your life starts to consist of.   

The thing I sometimes stumble on is: if I’m feeling disconnected, shouldn’t I hurry up, get on with it, and throw myself back into the swing of things? 

The answer I’ve come to is no. 

Most therapists would probably tell you otherwise, that you need to adopt a positive mindset and take it by the horns. That’s my general attitude towards most things, as well; I am not passive and I am not okay with getting tossed around. 

But I’ve realized that sometimes you just have to roll with it. 

My dad has lived in Los Angeles for a long time, and I’ve always loved the beach. My favorite thing was getting swallowed by waves. In the mouth of it it feels like you’re in a rapid spin cycle. There isn’t much you can do. In fact, the more you do, the more you stiffen, the worse the wash is. 

A lot of sadness and depression may be mental, but in some more than others it is more so chemical. I’ve been feeling pretty terrible the past few months, and I finally feel an emergence. 

I haven’t experienced any revelations, gone to any seminars, or had a “coming to Jesus,” but the change in lightness is astronomical. Sometimes, you just have to wait it out. (That’s my experience, at least, and if you’re struggling you of course should seek professional counsel.)

When I was in the pit of it, I waved my hand at many opportunities to embrace art. I was simply not interested in thinking any more than absolutely necessary. In Lit class, Macbeth and Beloved passed me by, and I could have gotten much more out of them. 

Maybe if I had muscled through my misgivings (my laziness, really) and embraced what was right in front of me, I could have come out on the other side a little sooner. Who knows, though. As I’ve maintained, sometimes you’re just not in the right place for the right things. 

Anyhow, there comes a time to cut your losses. I won’t purport that art can liberate people from apathy or depression, because I don’t know that to be true. What I do know to be true from experience is that if your skies are indeed unclouded, art does often have the effect of adding some sunlight. 

Last night, I spent a good four hours watching documentaries on impressionist artists. I feel less resistance in making decisions than in times prior, and so I clicked and reclicked many times, watching one after another with little care. Who can say, again, if this kind of action can be forced or strategized. Maybe, with some good therapy. If anyone knows I’d like to know. 

Regardless, it is abundantly clear to me now that without appreciation and investment in the arts, life is missing something essential. 

Time is always crunched, it seems. There’s always something we should be doing. But come on, we find time to do what we want. If there’s something “you wish you had time to do,” you’d probably be doing it if you wished hard enough. 

I am not casting judgment, either. I have been there many a time. The right place for the right thing is very hard to situate. It is daunting to embrace your failsafe because the thought may linger: what if the failsafe fails? Then what? 

What I mean in all of this is there is no need to be harsh; just roll with it, and everyone’s different. You’ll come out, and when you do, try enhancing the view with some great art. Honestly, Bob Ross comes to mind in all of this. “Happy little trees; no mistakes, just happy little accidents.”