Monday, July 5, 2010
Heard It Through the Grapevine
I've noticed that, among my more creatively prolific and successfully entrepreneurial friends, many of them game through all kinds of hardship. Rather than give up, rather than wither, they fought back. They fought back and became something worthy and wonderful. From starvation, whether physical, emotional or what have you, came a willfulness that turned into beauty. I don't know of anyone who gave up whose life also amounted to something admirable.
You've heard me say before that I wouldn't take back a single minute of my life. I also say, again, that even the worst moments are ones that I use to my advantage. I've learned from them. Even better, I've cultivated those times into something worthwhile and, I think, lovely. While there were definitely times when I thought I would simply languish, when I thought I might give up, I just couldn't. There was always something in me that fought back, even if it was, occasionally, a rather feeble fight. I wanted more.
It took me a long, long time to realize that the "more" that I wanted was, in reality, more from myself. It took some force for me to stop expecting, or even hoping for, more from the Universe, from people, from things, from everyone and everything but myself. I alone could force my existence. So I have. It's not without sporadic blight, but it is mine.
You have to have it in your blood, you have to grow up with the soil underneath your nails, the smell of the grapes in the air that you breathe. The cultivation of the vine is an art form. The refinement of the vine is a religion that requires pain and desire and sacrifice.