sensation

The sensation, however slight, that you might actually succed in whatever your trying to do, is a scary one. The sense that I have that what I'm doing might actually work out, eventually, freaks me out. I lay in bed at night thinking about this. As strange as it may seem, and worry about it. Trying to be someone is an immensly emptying experince, just from the amount of effort you put into trying to mold yourself into what you've seen in your dreams. The real fear though, is like dreaming about what happens to the hero, after he rides off into the sunset. When the movie ends and the curtain closes, the hero is still riding. For us, he moves like a legend, backlit by the setting sun and as he shrinks away from us in our world, he grows in our hearts and minds and imaginations. We turn away and go home. Inspired, uplifted, cleansed, absolved by his courage and deeds. But really, his act for us is a sacrifice. We leave the cinema, perhaps embolded by his story, but ignorant of what he has lost. On the walk home, his horse still gallops, and the open country still sweeps before him. Yet there is no sacrifice so great that it can outrun the sunset and eventually our hero must stop, his horse tired, and the light of day gone.

There will always be tommorow. No matter how great today. There are no dreams that last forever, and no sunsets that never end. Greatness comes only at the cost of our own lives. We live but for one moment, that in which our silowet is set against the sky and the purpose and meaning of our journeys becomes for but a moment, universilly clear. We struggle against our fate and circumstance to prove that our destines are not dictates of god, but rather arrogant and assertive claims of equality and cooperation between a man and his deity.

Photography is peculiar in that your fame is forever invisible. You are your art, and you are your image. You fear it though, because you know, if you ever do make it- there will be nowhere else to go from there. Beauty is glory only through the finite nature of mans art. We chase the dream, knowing full well it will be the end of us. And we are at peace with this.