As an artist I am compelled to write what I feel and feel what I write. If a reader can find oneself reaching out with one's heart and mind to what the artist is bringing to light, if even only for a moment, a bond is shared.
For an artist with neither acceptance nor appreciation is only someone who writes with pen and paper. His words and feelings are as dust in the wind and the emptiness thereof.
An artist can take the reader to what one is leading another to, and give the reader a view deep within oneself. A reader gives oneself to being lead and takes one's own heart to feel what one has found.
I know this to be true, for I have found myself growing with another artist, and reading Craft of Pen and Paper by the artist. And in doing so, it has come to my attention, in only the most delightful ways mind you, that everyone, reader, artist or a little of both, can and should accept and appreciate the love we all have within ourselves. It is always there and it can be reached. Love is also strong enough to reach out of the hold it may be in to show itself and express itself, to be appreciated.
There are so many ways any measure can be accepted and appreciated. The bond can be shared for a moment, a lifetime, or somewhere in between. There are even different kinds of love. It is my belief there are just as many ways of reaching out to someone as there are loving someone.
At my own desecration, I would like to touch upon a few more topics that merit my concern, of which you may want to know a little more than you already do. To begin with, how about the topics of passion and lust. Please do not confuse passion with lust, as having the same meaning. Lust is a selfish desire to receive, have or hold; passion is a selfish desire to give selflessly of oneself, asking nothing in return. Love is the driving force without which passion and lust have no place as we know it.
Just as one has the desire to give, it is also just as important to have someone to receive what is offered. With no one to receive, one feels the emptiness of being unnoticed, not accepted, and not appreciated.
There is a need for a natural balance of the freedom to give and the freedom to receive. Much like the taking of turns of being an artist or being a reader, also in talking to a dear friend who cares enough to listen and cares enough to say what is in one's mind or heart.
The balance spoken of can be found in friendships, marriages, and other loving relationships; natural balance can be found in the gentleness of friendships to even the heated moments in love. Passion and lust can be a way in which two embrace in the most intensely intimate expression of love.
A natural balance serves as a bond and foundation of which love may grow as people do.
What may very well be considered the most obscure, underrated, and even the most rewarding, if perilous, way one can express oneself, is to be, what the world considers, a hopeless romantic. To bring a more accurate and in-focus interpretation of the ideal of which I speak, I will share with the reader a few confessions of the romantic:
To be a romantic is to follow one's dreams, to stand for oneself, one's values, for the many things dearest to the heart. Both a man and a romantic are no better than his word or integrity. Beyond what a person looks like, his past, or how he stands now, if one has to judge another, it is better to assess what one feels as a person. The very elements good, bad, and indifferent, fused together to make a person who one really and truly is. These can be the making of a treasure to behold.
A romantic also accepts people as he would have them accept himself, as being good, bad, indifferent. Being not a perfect person, and knowing this only too well to be true, he accepts no more and no less from another; even so, the desire is strong to look beyond the faults, to find the measure of the treasure hidden.
For a romantic, the rewards can be beyond measure; but then, so are the perils of dreams that perish. After so much of oneself is invested in a goal or dream, not seeing the goal reached, the dream realized, one may feel the emptiness of failure, even if failure is brought about by means beyond one's control.
It is indeed a wonderful trait shared by romantics to be found being resilient, having purpose, hope, to keep going in life.
Dreams can be a talisman of a desire to grow. There are so many dreams to behold; small, large, short and long-term. A dream can be also changed or altered to adapt to given circumstances. I believe everybody has a little bit of a romantic in them. Whether the romantic part of oneself grows is a matter of personal preference: I have dreams and I know you have your dreams too.
Everyone has dreams, though there are exceptions,, that prefer to stagnate in self-doubt, self-pity, and a sense of less than human worth. There is no growth in that atmosphere, I know; I speak from personal experience. I have been there and back; I am not the only one left to tell about it.
It is a time in which one gives up one's own life; in an effort not to get entangled in details, I wish to keep this stated as such, but would like to add that, in giving up control of one's life, one is reduced to more a spectator than a participant. Leaving oneself closed and defenseless in the travels to the end of each waking day, to find oneself afraid to go asleep knowing there will be another tomorrow. Meanwhile the desires to grow, dream, the acceptance and appreciation of oneself, are locked up, never to be lost or destroyed, with the key always in the owner’s possession. But so seldom are the instances wherein can be found the ambition or inspiration to show oneself to be accepted, courage to express what one feels in order to be appreciated.
Inspiration can found in remembering the good times one has had, seeing the best brought out of oneself and everyone near and dear to the heart. Let’s not forget about courage, how one might find it from remembering the worst of times and seeing for oneself how one might in fact endure and succeed in growing again after the trials before us.
In the quest to regain control of one's life, it's sometimes easier to believe in someone else, rather than oneself; which, in all, could be a sign of mistrust of oneself. Although the war may have been started on the outside, the war is waged inside, and from the inside to the outside, the war is won. The battle, I believe, is one fought every day, for all the days that remain. When one finds oneself on the winning side one know how much easier it to be a winner, to stay a winner.
Once again, speaking for myself, I reached for and found, the desires, dreams, and values the make me the person I am now, and in my heart always was and will be.
Forgive me if I seem long winded in my address. Some things never change, do they? My only excuse is it comforts me to have someone such as yourself who cares enough to listen to what I have to say. I want you to know I know you may or may not agree with what I have to say either way in any measure you still have my respect for your judgment. Also I take it not for granted the openness or you heart to read and listen.
I still have my own song to sing, my own life to live and my own dreams, being no more or less than reflections of the values I hold dearest to my heart. In the eyes of others, I may be thought of in many ways. This is of little concern to me. In a world of ingratitude, selfishness, callousness of heart, I find myself out of place. But it is not within me to change myself to suit the world.
If looked at with a discerning eye, one might see that my needs are few and simple; my desires, sincere, worth keeping and standing for. Although I am reminded that the twentieth century is a poor place for romantics, fair maidens, and the last of a dying breed; in my heart I know there exists another natural balance. That for every gentleman there is an equal number of fair maidens to be found, who are just as strong of heart and will. I also believe there will always be a time and a place for people united in a bond of their own free will, to find their own place, and together remaining still the individuals they are, will add to the fullness of life in the time having been together.
Although being a man of gentle nature, I will stand tall for the person I am, my beliefs as they are, and everything and everybody found to be dearest my heart. I will remain ever vigilant in my life as I know it. It is all I have to offer I would ask no more or less from anyone who desires to stand with me. One should always remain true to oneself.
Throughout my Craft of Pen and Paper I have shown portions of myself to be seen and felt. I have made no effort to insert any justification for the person I am. This composition was written by the boldness that is my own. I offer myself up for understanding by the heart that is your very own. I have employed no artistry to hide behind or cloud the issues at hand. Yet I have found a way through my Craft of Pen and Paper to be seen, if only for a glimpse, who I am. To bring in to the light a reflection seldom seen, heard, or felt. Your judgment of what it is written is your very own; to keep, and yours to share as you see fit. It is not mine for the asking.
As promised beforehand, I have shown portions of myself and given you something to keep or share as your very own. I have delivered upon my promises, I have kept my word. My integrity speaks for itself.
In compliance with the natural balance of things, it is my obligation to take turns. To set my pen down, and return to my Craft of Pen and Paper another day.
Before my pen is put away I would like to tell you:
I have found you to be dearest to me and nearest my heart. Truly a treasure to behold. I value our friendship and the impression you have made in my life, beyond measure. You are my sincerest source of inspiration. In knowing you, the feeling of love being worthwhile despite the perils, has been made a reality, not just another dream yet to be realized. My writing this composition is one way for me to express my gratitude toward you for being my friend and sweetheart, and to say thank you for having me as your friend and sweetheart.
Howdy Rowdy. My name is Troy Prichard. I am 50 years old and I live in Omaha, Nebraska. I am not published, nor do I write professionally. I do have to admit I am really twisted, but I like it this way. In the long run I will write books but for the time being I am warming up with short stories. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.
