20:e, 21:a, 22:a oktober - En helg blir inte mycket bättre än så här
Kategori: 365 dagar mot ovissheten, Emma-Karin bloggar, Mina texter
Today is a beautiful day
When I die, I want them to play What a Wonderful World at the service.
Because if I can see trees of green and seas of blue until the moment I pass away,
I will not have wasted a single beautiful day.
Born into a chaotic world and raised on news reports of terrorism and disasters,
It took years of looking past idiotic extremism and above biased broadcasters,
To see that every day a hundred thousand planes take flight and land okay,
Every second new babies see the sunlight and 7 billion people go on their merry way.
As certain as I am that this body will in due time turn to dust and slowly decay,
As convinced am I that today is a beautiful day.
Because on this day, I will meet people whose existence I’d previously missed
I will behold with my own eyes the importance of acceptance and watch humans being kissed.
On rainy days I will see specks of colour playing in the puddles,
I will meet with travellers who huddle close to scare off cold,
A cascade of human beings with their highs and lows and stories to be told.
I am a storyteller, tiny in the grand scheme of the universe,
I am a dust speck with a dream of verse and shiny words and building worlds
And I am literally running out of time, check the timing and see that I will write down just a fraction of all the things I need to say.
But of all the sentences written close to heart and far away,
None is more important than that today is a beautiful day.
And on the day they drop the bombs and the world holds its breath – 25 minutes ‘til impact – I will tell you all that it’s a beautiful day.
Because we all woke up and brushed our teeth and watched the clouds and somewhere, somehow, the stars came out.
And if it all ends before we think we’re done – wouldn’t it feel better if we saw the beauty in each and every thing before it all was gone?
The world can be a cruel place, and I am not closing my eyes and pretending everything’s okay
I will wake up and read the news, I will take up a banner and join the crusade,
I will watch the world sway from the top of the barricade,
And through it all I will tell you that this – this is a beautiful day
There are children crying and burnt shoes at the edge of the road and hunger and people who have nowhere to go when night falls,
But if we want a shot at uniting and igniting a much needed change,
We need to look at all the things within our range of sight, and know that there is something here worth fighting for.
And from this day until the day they carry my wooden box down the aisle, I’ll be writing about and fighting for all those exciting things, be so sure.
You don't need to suffer for your art
It’s a popular lie that van Gogh ate yellow paint to feel happy.
We’re all young souls, scrappy and hungry, with holes to fill and thoughts that disagree
Existence is building castles with no assistance, your persistence is to no avail,
Be aware of creatures in the dark, as you prepare to embark and sail into the distance
Resistance is finding your yellow paint and holding on to it when the world derails.
Distress and anxiety hold hands with success and notoriety,
We as a society have romanticised the woes and throes of creative minds,
Those who fantasised of greater things and dark ordeals
But if I have to hear one more teacher, or one more pining friend, tell me that pain is a requirement for making beautiful things,
I will punch them in the face and ask how pretty that feels.
I am the first person to say that everyone should create, in every moment of every day.
If art is what keeps you going through the hate, through treatment or through the grey,
I bow to you and your resilience, go on and dazzle us with brilliance,
But don’t cling to what brings you down in the name of art,
Don’t let anyone tell you to drown your mind and tear your happiness apart.
Let go of the notion that your ability to create beautiful, meaningful things is attached to your feeling of slow-motion, of lack of emotion, everything that makes getting out of bed woeful.
I know some smartass poet said that the darkest nights make the brightest stars, but I’ve walked through the heart of London as the Big Ben tolled its eleven tolls, and I looked up to see the stars scattered across the burning sky, and as certain as I am that I will go to bed tonight and feel as if the world loves me, as certain am I that they shine for you.
The stars shine for you and all the wonderful things you do, and that’s enough to make you want to be the person your dog thinks you are.
What we need as artists is not to hear another expert talking of beauty in depression,
We need a movement, not a moment, a revolution in plain sight, to hell with discretion
Content artists see potential for improvement and progression, they take the fight with imposter syndrome and aim for everlasting impression.
Let art itself be the paint you drink, foster feeling of content and let the ink show your way home
Set your mind free and let it roam, be without relent in your creation, make it an outlet for your fixation, your frustration,
End this harmful glorification of mental incarceration and go change the world with that endless imagination.
Av texterna ovan kan vi dra slutsatsen att jag tycker om att rimma, och att jag inte är speciellt förtjust i stereotypen att konstnärer skapar bäst när de mår dåligt.
