"The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air. All I must do is find it, and copy it."
— Jules Renard, "Diary," February 1895
Did Renard know about quantum physics theory back then? I don’t think so but the quote applies nonetheless. Napoleon Hill wrote that every word that has been spoken is in the atmosphere around us as energy and that we somehow tap into that energy for our own use. In fact, he says we direct it with our choice of words. Words have power long after the moment they are spoken or written.
This is not a new theme by any means, but it is certainly an often overlooked thing in our mundane, everyday lives. We're too busy living, i.e., putting out fires, to have time for such esoteric, philosophical issues. Bullshit my other half calls it. The philosophical knowledge and understanding that I so thrive on is a burden to him, unimportant and useless information. To me it is the air I breathe, the sparkle and joy in life. How is it that some people want to know these things and others could really care less? Perplexing.
Even though I'm approaching being a sexagenarian, I still struggle with the fact that I am a dreamer in an often mundane world. It seems I've been that way my whole life, although I could not have put it into words like this before now. Maybe I will find a release in the telling.
The image that I use on my social web sites is a self-portrait I did years ago and I can honestly say that at the time of doing that drawing, I did not realize it was a self-portrait nor that it imbodied the 'dreamer' quality that is so me. Most of my art is that way. I do the art in the moment and then find hidden meaning in the artwork after its completion. It's as if my subconscious decides to play a joke on me, the punchline of which, like all good jokes, comes at the end. Surprise!
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