life imitates art

Some people are born poets. Their souls rage the moment they are ripped from the womb, lungs aching and heart ready to burst out of a too-frail chest. Some people are born dancers—they fall, more than you could imagine anyone possibly could, yet they’re the ones who never give up. Who never look back, no matter how hard the choreography gets or how badly their bodies fail them when their dreams grow past their cracked ribcage. Some people are born artists—the smell of paint and the snowy gleam of an empty canvas gives them a high that no drug can replicate. Some people are born lovers—no matter what their object of affection is, their cause or passion—they cling to joy with every ounce of their being because they know that without love, life has no meaning at all. And some people are born fighters—they know the world owes them nothing, yet they create a life worth bleeding for. There are tears in their eyes, and if you follow them—as many are wont to do, with such saints—you will find their path marked with shards of their sundered hearts.

I am all of these people. Poetry is the words I long to speak when the silence presses in and the platitudes are worthless. Dancing is the way I cope with a world shattered upon Atlas’s back, and art is how I know we can one day put the world back together again. Love, well, we hear that name so often it becomes a cliche, embroidered on old jackets and blazing above a Hollywood movie screen. But I find her in the quiet places, the in-between, where ghosts learn to hold suffering and hope with the same gentle fist. I fight for all the things I believe in because I have had dancing ripped away from me, my body betray me, words fail me, love break me, and art leave me wounded: but no one can ever take away who I am. My identity is not in my gifts or my blessings, my trauma or my triumphs. My identity is in the hope I find in writing a well-crafted scene, the way the wind whips my hair at the beach when I dance across the waves, and the joy I find in creating something new and beautiful that has never existed before. There is divinity in all of this.

I continue to create, to laugh, to experience life no matter what challenges I face. My insecurities, the triggers that cling to my bones like leeches in a slow-running river, the nightmares I still see when I look in the mirror—they do not tell the whole story. And my trauma does not stop me from living my truth.

I must go on. I might continue this fight, this journey, this ecstasy of existential crisis and conflict. I believe the reason I exist is to help humanity. To show love when none can be found. To share stories when hope is too much of a burden to even grasp in one fist. To delight in the everyday joys of puppies and ice cream and waterfalls and bonfires and moonlight.

I delight in life. The happiness is so much sweeter, knowing the sorrow that is behind me and still within me. I want others to realize that they can delight in life too. I want people to grasp joy the way I have, to know that no matter what their background is or how dark the path before them has grown, how long they have wandered in the wilderness—I want them to know it’s okay to come home.

I value trust, hope, and authenticity. The platform I want to build is transparent in nature and short in stature—not a soapbox where I shout down my demands for growth and change and justice, but a grassy hill where we can sit together in peace. Those who join my journey will be valued as a family—as part of the global tribe of humanity.

If I’m completely honest, I hate money. I hate that we live in a world where money drives people to commit horrific atrocities to feel safe in golden prisons. I hate how it divides and breaks families apart. Yet while we remain on this Earth, it is a necessity that all must receive to survive. I create art for myself and for those I love. If I can create a symbiotic relationship with people who are interested in healing, growing past trauma, learning to love again, and as many forms of art as there are stars in the sky, then I will do it. I want to eventually create a website where fellow creators and healers can learn about art and the nature of human suffering and joy. This will help me to develop a newsletter where I can reach out to my growing family weekly with art I’ve created and words that inspire. This is not an easy process, but I know it’s worth it.

I want you to know It’s okay for you to love. To fight, to write, to thrive, to laugh, to dance, to cry. To engage in your creative outlets and cope with the horrors of life through art. You deserve to live life beautifully.

-v. summers

(This was written for the members-only challenge back in June. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline, but I am posting it now as a reminder and challenge to keep creating and working towards my dreams.)