My thoughts also had an opportunity to marinade, and I realized that I didn't feel necessarily lonely and depressed. I just felt out of my element and it made me long for my own world only to realize that I don't really have a place I could call my own the way my friend can. I don't have a performance I can invite my friends to and hear positive feedback at the end after committing so much time, diligence, and effort into the craft. My world is different from his, and it isn't as tangible yet. I was subconsciously saddened that I haven't made the kind of progress he's made. But the truth is that we're on entirely different scales, and I'm not in the entertainment industry the way he is. So where I am now is where I'm expected to be and probably should be.
It's interesting, though, because I was talking to my friend's mother. She's an amazing soul, someone of immense compassion and concern for others. He told me once that she helps others as a way to avoid her own problems when we were trying to find a way to help her reduce the clutter in her space that's become toxic for everyone's mental and emotional health. The profile correlates, but it wasn't until that night that I sensed it in her.
I felt connected to her in a way because we felt like we were living in a paralleled world to my friend (her son). She was definitely proud of him. But I wonder if it was hard for her to see him embrace his talents and be so intimate with it because she believes she lacks the talent to experience that herself, which is furthest from the truth. Still, I felt like I sensed this familiar seed of inadequacy that's laced with guilt oozing out of her. She asked me how I was doing, and I told her I was fine. And I was but not exactly.
I'm fairly certain she sensed that there was more going on than what I was sharing. She was also sweet enough to make sure. She didn't push or prod and never accused me of lying, but it did feel like she knew there was something more as though I was hiding something. It's as if she could sense the curtain, that curtain we all display when we're trying to hide something. I think she felt bad for me because she knows what it means when that curtain is used.
And I don't know. Maybe I'm tripping. Maybe she's just intuitive and sensed that I felt out of place. Maybe I'm projecting when I say that she felt inadequate surrounded by a concentration of undeniable talent. It's always possible. But I doubt it.
I was so focused on myself and trying to conceal what I believed to be entirely inappropriate that I didn't give much attention to his mother at the time. But her energy and tone really weighed on me while it was happening and even after we parted ways. It makes me feel for her. She's such a talented artist, and I hope that one day she'll see herself outside of her own eyes because only then will she realize how truly remarkable she is.
I feel like I spent my entire life fearing failure that I wasn't even aware of how much I fear succeeding. Success invites energy that's so different from what most of us are used to or are even exposed to that it can be frightening. That's where my fear lies. But for her I think she, for whatever reason, feels lowly of herself probably due to low self-esteem. I was like that once. I'd have momentary experiences where I'll appreciate something that I created, something that came from me, as though I extracted a piece of my soul and exposed it to the world. I'm proud of it until my criticism crumbles this delicate gift, and I return to the state of disappointment. I honestly believe that's what she goes through. My friend and I talked once about how we'd like to see her teaching art because while she doesn't believe that she, herself, is gifted, she'd be more than delighted to teach others. She has less difficulty offering something up yourself than to accept what's right in front of her face. Maybe when she's in a state of openness to appreciate art with a generous heart, the spark deeply rooted in her will make her see what the rest of us do.