TO THE END OF THE WORLD OR THE NEW YEAR
Among some of my favorite feelings, Accomplishment is one of the top-ranking. Very few things feel better than finishing that which you have begun, that which you've labored towards completing; placed time and thought into achieving in its end, a closure or conclusion. I place high value in being able to close a project and say, with a deep sigh of satisfied relief, "I'm done!" And what's more, to say those two words knowing I didn't rush, didn't lie or cheat, didn't cut corners just to accelerate the status from "in progress" to "complete". Standing at that finish line with a final product that, borderline fascinates me--Almost makes me forget I had anything to do with it, I thoroughly enjoy opening the doors to the end. And since my self-fascination merits self-completion; and since that self-fascination feels quite favorable, my brain encourages any repetition of the euphoria it experiences during these self-indulgences. My brain likes it when I like myself, and thinks, "okay, he likes finishing things; well then, lets finish some more..." Its that simple, or at least it starts off that simple.
Completing what I start introduces to me, two friends who have helped me move forward through the years. Indeed, these two friends are responsible for any artistic progression I am capable of. They are Consistency and Definition and together they dually support the giant battery in my heart labeled Confidence. I am dearly indebted to them. While Consistency supplies volume, Definition provides substance. They, the two, are singular agents as well as binary; working together just as well as apart. Consistency produces a body of work from which Definition begins to rise; likewise, Definition encourages the self-intrigue that further increases the need to produce more work. In terms of blog writing, every entry I publish gives me such a good feeling of accomplishment that I immediately want to write and publish the next entry. When enough entries are published, I like to enjoy them as a collection and examine their strengths as well as their blind spots. I also like to note the maturation of my voice, the way my written expressions evolve from entry to entry--For better or worse, I learn about myself.
I like to think of a conveyor belt as a possible setting for an analogy of Consistency. Its a moving platform, loads are placed onto it and taken forward in direction. Consistency, like the conveyor belt, wants to help you; wants to maximize your efficiency and productivity. Mainly, to get as much loads transferred successfully, from starting point to ending. Returning to the subject of writing, Consistency is my cheerleader--Seeing a conveyor belt full of essays, blogs, letters, expositions, reviews, etc., becomes a sort of catalyst for loading more onto the belt. This as a reaction to the pressure removed as you've not to carry these loads by hand and back. In the possible analogy, this manual transferal would equate to writer's block or procrastination and distraction. What I mean to say is, Consistency is a resourceful friend that favors constant creativity, while with Consistency's absence, disinterest is encouraged by writer's block and distraction.
When a load finally arrives at the end of the conveyor belt, prepared, priced and ready to join its contemporaries out on the salesfloor, its journey has been completed. Each step of the preparation, this would include such things as pricing and inventory processing, are quick stops that transform raw wholesale materials, into finished retail goods.
This transformation can be said to be, if looked at from result first and then back, a defining; a process of giving the load that which will come to provide it its identity. As a soldier who's sole identity is strictly recognized as being a soldier, his earlier days at boot camp training and assimilation were the days that defined him--that gave him his current meaning as a soldier. So it is with finished goods, that the process it underwent before reaching the salesfloor is what defined the product as a purchasable item--And to finally nake the idea from over-accesorized analogies--so is it, that Consistency supplies Definition with something to define.
To define something is a completion all on its own. Understanding the meaning--the concept, the various ideas or symbols that merge to become a Voltron of concise analysis--Thus, definition is the end result of examination. It is also the end result of learning, which isn't too far off from an examination. To know a subject is to define a subject; and what better and ever-altering subject than yourself for examining is there?
Finishing anything awards a quality to that "anything"--A quality of being finite, bordered in a clear frame of perhaps, not comprehension but available solidity. I say "available" in that, every portion of the intended product is there, solid and permanent. However, not necessarily rigid in shape or form. What a finished product in Art may appear as could be a box, onto which an entire jig-saw puzzle is placed. When every piece is in the box, the product is complete--it is now up to the viewer to construct the image, piece by piece, all of which are available.
It is this available solidity that can be successfully examined. There is no such thing as internal expression, you cannot express a feeling by keeping it locked up, unreleased. Expression requires, to some degree, tangible proof, tangible presence--available solidity. Expression is the available solidity that allows us to self-examine ourselves, and in some cases as mine, to become fascinated with ourselves. And whatever it is that we are working to become, through expression we can see the pieces of definition align themselves. From stage to stage, the process, if consistent--provides further and further expressions, available solids to examine. At the end, awaiting our definition, our meaning, is the identity--which an entire life worked to define.
Feeling accomplished is like a preview, a window to glance through and say to yourself, "oh, so this is how far I've gotten" after long intervals of being unconscious to the fact. I can't speak for everyone on this but anything I start, any projects, any plans or schemes--at their commencement they are given an unspoken promise of completion. If ever I leave things undone, and this has happened countless of times, in fact more often than I complete them--If ever I cannot make good on that promise, I am haunted by all the unspoken accusations found in the Silence of the Unfinished. I try to avoid these accusations because they tend to be heavy, you have to carry them down the long corridor and your arms shake with protest. The conveyor belt being beside you, yet you've been denied access simply because you cannot lift your arms high enough to load the weight onto the belt. This isn't a good feeling and after weight after weight, your arms refuse the ability to even lift a load up from off the ground. Abandoned by Consistency, Definition, Confidence...
Luckily, moments occur when my friends and I are at our prime. We celebrate any and every accomplishment in as long as it maintains a point of origin and a counterpoint of conclusion. We feel at home in this state, we feel ready to participate, perpetually with or against Life and all its offered days. With or against, because Life doesn't care what side you're on so long as you participate. And Life is just one giant Participation Field of days--Days of experience knotted together; awaiting, the consistent fingers of definition, to be untied.