Being alive is art
monetizing your existence is boring
On gratitude, being alive as art, and the toxicity of trying to monetize your existence
If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.
— Ross Gay
The bloomings of spring are peeking through the sky more and more. I feel inspired, enlivened—ready to leave the nest of winter and enter the exuberance of sunshine & warmth & tank tops.
Whenever this transition from winter to spring comes around, I feel my body craving more bigness, more movement, more time outside in the grass. Today, I feel grateful that my front lawn is a mossy haven. My toes love to squish around over there.
I treasure seeing signs of new life—the Japanese roses and honeysuckle beginning to blossom by the pond, the tulips Juulia and I planted starting to show their sweet green faces. We are all waking up to the sun.
Today, I was reminded of a conversation/text thread I had with two of my best friends earlier this year. Funny how my January self sent this text, which feels so pertinent to the thoughts I’m currently reflecting on.
As I work toward building my business, as I move toward my desire for my business to be my full-time job, I often remind myself: being alive is art, even when we’re not making money from it.
How quickly I forget that art-making, in any form, is an essential piece of my own aliveness.
It’s not a quippy Instagram carousel or a quick post of a nature highlight on my story. It’s the way the sun hits the orchids in the kitchen, the way my cat perches his little head against the windowsill during his naptime, the way the colors of my colored pencils merge together to form delightful highlights and shadows, the way my body moves to Last Last by Burna Boy, the collages Juulia creates, the way I care for my body.
When I take the day-to-day art that makes my everyday life sacred and try to turn it into something digestible that people can witness and devour, I overlook my humanness. It’s toxic, really—the way our culture has convinced us to turn everything we do into a 90-second reel or a spicy meme or a hobby we must MONETIZE and turn into a money-making machine.
I never want to get stuck in the loop of doing something or making art with the purpose of posting it on the internet to try to get something from it.
From January Christie: this is a permission slip for art to just be art. For my daily life to be sacred, something I keep close to my heart. For my process to be something I share when it’s been held with care and my cup is overflowing with generosity.
I don’t have to post about everything in the hopes of trying to monetize & make it big. My daily life is allowed to be sacred off the screen. Yours is, too, dear reader.
May we let our living be art. May we give ourselves permission to let art be art. May we share in moments of inspiration, and may we let go of scarcity in the not-sharing.
<3
Christie
thanks for this reminder, christie <3