Life As Performance Art 129

Gentle Reader, this is my second installment of what I have learned from the Desiderata. This isn't to say that I learned FROM it, rather, my life just seemed to evolve in the same direction that this inspired and inspiring prose poem seems to go in. It would seem that the author of the poem, and myself, were tapping into the same source, the same energy. Or simply put, we were both trying in our small and humble way to hear clearly and accurately the voice of God. so here it is folks, the next stanza: "Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself." I have had to deal in life with loud and aggressive persons. My older brother, when I was a child, and some of his horrible friends. I had to learn that if I was not going to get beaten and verbally abused by him, or verbally abused by certain of my brother's friends (he was three years older than me), then I should best avoid him altogether. I had to learn this in school as well, because as a gentle child I was easily targeted by bullies and abusive persones. I would have to learn the hard way that their friendship, or their illusion of friendship, was not worth the bad treatment, so I quickly began to isolate from others in my neighbourhood, even at the age of ten, and would instead wander alone outside. This was rather easy where we lived, because it was a safe area in an outer suburb, with lots of fields and pastures. This was also the sixties, before every parent became neurotic with fear that lurking on every street corner is a monster waiting to abduct and murder their child. So, I would take long solitary walks, even at night, along the curving and serpentine streets of our neighbourhood, and in the daytime in the fields that lay near our home. I learned to be comfortable alone, and to enjoy the process of thinking and reflection. I became a keen observer of nature and wildlife. I was not popular with other kids, and had no friends. This vexed me, but at lest alone I felt safe. It was also during this time that I began to read more, including the newspapers, and to think about the world. I came to see that I was connected to others, not just my family, and not simply in my neighbourhood, but to people all over the world. I became desirous to meet and to know other people, people different from me, because I knew that they would teach me what my very limited parents could not. I became a seeker, I became an explorer, and I still am, to this day. When I was seventeen I did have to live with one very loud and very aggressive person, being my mother's boyfriend, after my father kicked me out of his house (not himself loud or aggressive, but a very angry and self-loathing alcoholic who had always treated me with abuse and shame). I could not avoid him, though for the first three months he was away every week Monday to Friday, serving time in a minimum security prison up-Island. When he was released in January, it was hell. He was often drunk, belligerent, unpleasant, sometimes threatening violence. Twice I had to call the cops to keep him from hitting my mother (I had just turned eighteen) I had to get away from the situation, and on my mother's advice, I left after finishing high school, moved to Vancouver, where I tried to establish a life of my own. It was not an easy time, but even throughout my years of work and ministry with vulnerable people, i have taken great care to maintain a safe distance from loud and aggressive persons. They are not worth the trouble, being too full of themselves to care about others. I also had to eat my share of humble pie in the art world, when, during the nineties and early 2000's I was honing my craft as a painter and trying to get into a good gallery. I could never compete. It isn't that my work wasn't good enough. it was, but I locked confidence, connections and support, so i could never find anyone to really help me move forward. This was a time of grappling with some very toxic envy, especially towards one particular famous artist, a former friend of mine, who did very well, and also refused to offer me even a morsel of support, as she had acquired a very bitter grudge against me. Now, my paintings adorn primarily my apartment, as well as two of the offices where I work, but that is enough. I carry my sketchbook and coloured pencils everywhere with me and draw in coffee shops as well as at home. That is enough for now, I can keep making art so my head doesn't explode. I sometimes connect with lovely people through my art. Occasionally someone buys my art, but that is no longer important to me. I am happy. I can create, connect with others, and generally go on enjoying life.