Understudied

How is it that once we have found a success, we settle for it as a standard? Once we do this, we are subjecting ourselves to limitations that tether creativity. Write like this, stroke the brush like that, move your arms just so...

The birth of impressionism opened a whole new world for artists and lovers of art. John Lennon gifted us new horizons of thought as well as music. So did Beethoven, and the toddler down the street who is just letting loose to some Elvis.

I suppose we are all subject to influence on a daily basis, if we wear clothes woven by someone else, eat food cooked by another, or read a book. Our thoughts can't help but be remnants of those carried by our parents or idols, and our hearts can't help but be products of our loves and losses.

Do you ever wonder who influenced Adam or Eve to name the animals or the days as they did? How in the world did Moses ever think to write those rules? I will never forget the day that my older brother took off running for school because he could not contain his excitement for having discovered that if you square the long side of a triangle, it equals the sum of the two remaining sides (each squared, of course). His dejection, as he crawled home after finding out that some dope named Pythagoras beat him to it, wrecked me.

Why does it matter what someone thought or how they worshiped? We always seem to need to understand the thoughts and rationales of people, particularly groups of them. The thing about religion is that it seems to me to be nothing more than an arrangement of your beliefs for you. It's kind of like having your spouse or career chosen for you. Where's the love in that? 

My mind gets knotted up in itself time and time again as I imagine the long vines that hang from life's tree, only to be re-discovered and played with over and over again. I can't help but wonder who held them, climbed them, walked beneath them, or loved them. So no, I don't care to know how to do this right. I need to do it so it honors my dream and not someone else's. Sometimes I rhyme and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I don't even make sense... like squared sides of a triangle...whatever that means. I'd rather be the baby cutting loose with the giddy laughs and funny moves- and not the person playing a part in some other person's play.