Sometimes in life we go through bouts of failure. No inspiration, the chips are down.
Maybe you’ve lost a friend or a loved one. Maybe you’re behind on the rent. But whatever you’re going through? Never stop writing. Never stop creating. Find those things that mean the most to you. Let them inspire you. Dig into the trenches and fight the war.
And, of course, that is what all of this is – all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs – that song, endlesly reincarnated – born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket ’88’, that Buick 6 – same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness.
A wise old black man once told how to look at life and his words have stayed in my mind since and for many years. He said “When things go bad they could’ve been worse. And I’d rather play the blues than nothin” at all. ”
As you get older the more things change – for the better or for the worse. Sometimes being a writer and becoming somewhat of an self-isolationist is like being in a sanctuary and finding your true self, your true voice and words. The outside world never goes away. It will always be there.
For every hero there’s a nemesis, and for every genius there’s a nothing. And for every new day there is always a night. The truth is not necessarily what you see or in the moment believe but exists in those things which you have made, created and that stand, that hold meaning. Those things that are treasured long after you’ve left the building or this weary world behind. These are the true works of art, poetry and literature. Our children in both physical & metaphysical, spiritual and living form. There is never an ending to our stories even after we are gone. Every moment is a beginning. Every moment a resurrection.