Pounding on Walls

What is art anyway except not pounding on walls? 

This line jumped off the page of this book  last night, just before I dozed off to sleep.  At first, the meaning didn’t quite sink in.  After all, I was tired from a day of working and practicing, my cheeks were flushed and warm after sitting on my back porch in the sun (yes! Sun!) 

But suddenly I understood, you could even say I had one of those Aha! moments.  

So that’s what you’ve been doing lately, I said to myself.  You’ve been not pounding on walls.

Here’s the thing ~ in the past few months, my life has just exploded with artistic activity.  My rehearsal schedule is so complex I resorted to printing out monthly calendars for the next three months and color coding the different activities so I have a visual picture of where I’m supposed to be and when.  I have three authors who have emailed me with books to review, all hoping to do interviews/guest posts on Bookstack.  And completely unbidden are all these wonderful writing ideas that keep popping into my head at the most inopportune times, causing my fingertip to itch for a pencil and paper. 

You might think juggling all these balls would be overwhelming. On the contrary, I seem to have more energy than I’ve ever had before, as if all the neurons firing in my brain are recharging my metabolic battery rather than draining it.

This activity – the playing and writing, the going and doing – these are the things that have kept me from pounding the walls this winter, a season of frustration and disappointment and loneliness and distance and detachment.  It’s been art that has kept me sane.

We all need life preservers from time to time, something to hang onto when people fail us or life throws us for a loop, when happiness appears as a small speck on some far horizon, when plans go awry and the world goes mad.  At times like those, we can pound the walls in fury and frustration, or embrace the things that make life worth living, plunge headfirst into activities and passions that fulfill those empty places. 

I’ve been lucky to have a bevy of life preservers tossed toward me this winter.

And I’m hanging onto all of them.

How about you?  What keeps you from pounding the walls? What are your life preservers?

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6 thoughts on “Pounding on Walls

  1. I can see this interpretation…not just as you describe it, but in a larger sense. I think art…both the appreciation of and creation of…is what keeps us “sane” as a species. It’s why I cringe whenever the arts fall victim to budget cuts in schools. Sadly, they’re so often the first to go.

  2. I think your life preservers sound wonderful. It’s good to have so many activities out there that you enjoy (“that you enjoy” being the key words). If I weren’t so tired from getting up too early and working, I’d say that cooking and gardening and reading would be my life preservers.

  3. I feel guilty when I’m not bouncing off the walls, being busy. Productive busy, but busy, nonetheless. But when I think of life preservers, I think of the things I really miss when I’m so busy I can’t do them and WANT to pound on the walls. Those are cooking (I was going crazy during my confinement until I could cook), art (meaning messy art with glue or paint — things I can’t do in my sling!) and knitting (which I managed to figure out a way!). And the blog. Both doing it and visiting others. And the Gypsy. Just because!

    Glad you are thriving, not just surviving!

  4. Ha! I loved this. You have life preservers to save you, and I have red umbrellas to protect me.

    No doubt, when things go awry, we must look to what we still have. I’m so happy that your life preservers have kept you afloat.

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