When creating any form art one is always told to turn off their inner critic. Every day we are all creating and building something. Our futures, our relationships, our perceptions. Our lives are books to be written (because I’m feeling cheesy) and masterpieces that are constantly being added to. As our lives are [in a sense] art, our inner critic has absolutely no reason to take a break.
I’m not a nature art (or whatever it happens to be called) person. People take photos of sunsets and African plains, and sure I appreciate the beauty – but at the same time I can’t help but think to myself that all the photos look the same. It’s cool, but it’s all over my Facebook, my Instagram, my life.
But when I’m outside sometimes I can’t help but enjoy what’s around me.
When I was younger (as in very few years ago…) I hated the night. It was time when I was left to battle with my cruel imagination and hold on to the hope that the news I saw on TV would simply remain there as a series of flickering (not really…) pictures. Now I love night-time. It’s a time when everything’s peaceful and there are no excessive noises or distractions around me.
Last night I realised that the moon and the crickets are my heroes. I like how the moon shines. It’s not deterred by the fact that everyone thinks the sun shines brighter. I don’t need to be like the sun. I don’t need for my light to obviously shine and shine for everyone. I want to be there for that person whose only light in the midst of darkness is the moon. The person who has hopes and tells them to the moon, and I want to be them too. The dark doesn’t stop the crickets from singing; it seems to make them louder. I want to be like them. I want to be like the stars that shine even though I can’t see them, even though they’re too far for me to truly see them.