You may have heard this anecdote. Picasso is sitting in the park, sketching. A woman walks by, recognizes him, runs up to him and pleads with him to draw her portrait. He’s in a good mood, so he agrees and starts sketching. A few minutes later, he hands her the portrait. The lady is ecstatic, she gushes about how wonderfully it captures the very essence of her character, what beautiful, beautiful work it is, and asks how much she owes him. “$5,000, madam,” says Picasso. The lady is taken aback, outraged, and asks how that’s even possible given it only took him 5 minutes. Picasso looks up and, without missing a beat, says: “No, madam, it took me my whole life.”
Every time you hear an echo from your Subconscious, you know yourself a little better. A small echo may start an idea. A big echo may result in a story. (p. 40)
Bradbury, R. (1992). Zen in the Art of Writing: Releasing the Creative Genious Within You. New York: Bantam Books.
Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art, be it acting, writing, painting, or living itself, which is the greatest art of all. (p. 116)
I was initially terrified of you in my dreams. I'd never seen your body, I never went to your funeral so deep in my mind you were still around. You would show up and I knew something was wrong. I would avoid you as my brain tried to put together the idea that you're not around anymore and the idea that you're somehow here now. It didn't help that the last time we actually talked we hated each other. Or at the very least we didn't understand each other anymore. I'll never forget the first time when you arrived in my dream and I wasn't scared. It was just like the old days and I had so many questions that I wanted to ask you but you just kept telling me "let's find a place to sit down and talk." we walked around for what felt like hours and hours but everywhere was closed, I kept asking you questions, "why did you leave?" "what were you thinking?" "was all of this my fault?" and you just kept saying "just wait, just hold on, let's find a place to sit down and talk." I think I knew we'd never be able to find a place to sit down and have that talk. I'd never get the chance to ask you those questions. You don't show up in my dreams anymore these days. I wish you would.
“If there is a state where the soul can find a resting-place secure enough to establish itself and concentrate its entire being there, with no need to remember the past or reach into the future, where time is nothing to it, where the present runs on indefinitely but this duration goes unnoticed, with no sign of the passing of time, and no other feeling of deprivation or enjoyment, pleasure or pain, desire or fear than the simple feeling of existence, a feeling that fills our soul entirely, as long as this state lasts, we can call ourselves happy, not with a poor, incomplete and relative happiness such as we find in the pleasures of life, but with a sufficient, complete and perfect happiness which leaves no emptiness to be filled in the soul.”
— Rousseau, Reveries of a Solitary Walker