A Letter to Agnes DeMille by Martha Graham

A Letter to Agnes DeMille by Martha Graham

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
of the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others.

This prose will not be brilliant.

i’m asunder.

do write even if i have nothing of value to say?

writing for write’s sake.

I miss you when we’re apart, sweet bloggy.

what shall I say to soothe the swelling in my soul to share?

do i describe the apathy required to exist in this current hateful world?

i’ll spare you.

Imposter syndrome

I think that the entire reason I worked to get my degree was to fight my imposter syndrome.

I had to achieve a bachelors of fine arts from a state university before I could really say that I’m an artist.

Now I don’t believe that for other people… not in the least. Anyone can be an artist.

I guess the difference is that I know where I came from. “i’m polished white trash“ I just always joke. Maybe i’ve been recycled.

I think I needed that stupid piece of paper to take myself seriously. So now I can really say it. I am a trained artist!

But it feels strange; I wish it were more comfortable.

Maybe I’ll grow into it.

A Great Love

Each clear, fine night the Moon glows her bright beaming reflection onto the surface of the Sea. Most nights the Sea gleams the light back and they quietly smile & whisper to one another.

But the Sea isn’t steady like the Moon. The Moon is older and wiser than the Sea. She already knows her importance and place on high. The unruly Sea tosses and turns, ever changing and feeling like she is too much for this world, too watery, too deep. This troubles the Moon.

Wanting to keep her companion shining too, the Moon takes a great, deep breath and inhales a passing Cloud; when she blows it out, the Sea swirls beneath her feeling dizzy and moved. As the Moon exhales the Cloud forms a dense, heavy, warm Fog.

And it is fate; the Fog loves the Sea. She recognizes herself in the Sea. And the Sea feels at peace and seen in the Fog. The Fog listens more closely and holds the Sea ever nearer; cheek to cheek they sway until the Sun rises and they can hold each other no more.

Each day the Sea waits for her lover to hold her ever near. And the Moon smiles.

Endlessly : a poem in the style of Dr. Seuss

I love you more than flours in the cakes

I love you sweeter than honey the bees make

I love you brighter than rays of the sun

I love you further than motors run

I love you bigger than the universe expands

I love you countless as all the grains of sand

I love you up, i love you down.

i love you together, and when no one is around.

I love you big, I love you wide.

I love you fearlessly, i love you with pride.

I love you now, I love you then.

I’ll love you even when this world ends.

My soul will know yours, wherever we land.

Even in the next galaxy, I’ll be holding your hand.

Hurt Feelings

I avoid discussing issues that I have with my mother because I know that I may say things to hurt her feelings.

But she isn’t going to read this anyways and it’s cathartic for me.

So I’m not going to hold back anymore.