The artist has made sanctuary upon their little Isle, found stable ground. Now they plant a garden. For it is there the work can flourish
Embrace Cadence, Find Rhythm
The artist has made sanctuary upon their little Isle, found stable ground.
Now they plant a garden.
For it is there the work can flourish on home soil. Let their creations grow roots in persistent mediums. Deep soil of blogs and web domains. The artist can plant seeds here and watch them flourish. It is from this garden sheltered from virtual storms that the artist can do the work that transcends popular concern.
The chronology of cyberspace has shattered old certainties. Old methods overtopped by a ceaseless tide. The temporal fabric now woven by algorithmic sirens into an eternal ‘now’.
A garden and a lighthouse. These are the things the artist needs upon their stable isle.
The former a safe haven, the later a beacon of guidance and consistency.
So let the artist leave the garden and build a lighthouse upon sanctuary’s highest peak. Through future storms let it blink steadfast, cutting across the raging seas. Let the light’s rhythm be an anchor to the artist as well as others.
Embrace the cadence of a lighthouse and the calendar. Refuse to submit to chaos.
So too must the artist find rhythm in the garden. Be it the demands of a job, the responsibilities of family, or the unexpected twists of fate let the artist find their tempo. Do not be enslaved by the expectations of others. Allow the art of the garden to rise with the sun, dance with the afternoon wind, and be guided by the moon’s gentle glow.
Someday the artist may choose to leave sanctuary and navigate unknown seas. May the rhythm of its lighthouse be a comfort and a guide. Sculpt a tempo of one’s own amidst fragments of others scattered content . The artist must find their own cadence, a creative spirit that pulses like a heartbeat.
Do not let the garden be overrun by weeds, The needs of retweets, likes and follows are unhelpful allies. Resist the siren’s call of engagement from beyond the sea. Pursue authenticity. Know thyself; for in the depths of you, the purest art is born.
For the artist who persists, who commits to the doing of the doing, rhythm becomes its own sanctuary. Forge ahead.
Like the heroes of epics past, let one’s creative odyssey be a saga of perseverance and triumph. But know too there is as much glory in the garden as on the battlefield. You do not have to fight to be remembered, good soil is appreciated by all plant, beast and being a like.
Tending a garden takes time – do a little every day.
The artist must balance life’s demands with the call of creative passion. Work in the garden is always calling, there is always more to do. New work planted keeps other work alive.
It is by repetition that one weaves a tapestry. Woven one warp and weft at a time. Let your commitment to the pattern be unshakable. Feel your heart aflame with passion for the work.
The world of course turns. Inside longer cycles, faster tempos must be found. Through the doing of the doing each day, each week, each month, the work becomes monument. A safe and stable platform from which to do the work.
The work at first may flourish. Bear generous fruit, enjoyed by both the artist and the audience. But beware, however long or brief the blooming, it will lose its lustre. Guests will leave and once again the artist will find themselves all alone. They must return to work, sowing and pruning, finding fulfilment in the doing.
Nor can work cut and taken from the garden and placed upon a plinth ever be put back into the ground. Things will never be the same. One cannot look back upon the past beauty of spoiled flowers.
There is no smell worse than former glory left in a vase.
The cycle of work, from seed to softening and decay, is a natural rhythm. All work becomes compost ready for the next. This is how the platform of the artist’s safe soil is raised.
As the garden becomes a deeper haven, the artist will find ever greater sanctuary. More time to tend its soil. Their island becomes a world apart from tumultuous social seas. The rhythm of the lighthouse up above standing tall. Illuminating, guiding the artist and the others through the unknown.
In the digital realm, from the tranquillity of the garden the artist creates on their own time. They find the time to do the work, and create a rhythm with its publishing. The edges of one’s garden are a boundary, welcome home the home page reads. Regular work done here amidst old growth and young seedling cultivates and refines self expression.
When rooted deeply in the soil, made up of past commitments and expended effort, the work will world its own world. The rhythm of the lighthouse may bring others to your little isle, with whom share generously. Do not tolerate visitors seeking to grade and critique, for in ones own garden there is never best in show.
The nature and the tempo of the work will change with the seasons, this in turn this will change the artist. In the slow garden the artist cultivates creative identity. The creative light of the lighthouse blinks out, pushing back the dark night of the forever now.
The script above is the original script I wrote for the episode. It may differ from what ended up in the episode in the edit.
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