I am the World The World is Me

by Yvonne DiVita

There's an artist in all of us. A voice that often whispers in our soul - "Listen to me," she says. "You are powerful," she says. "You are ART and the WORLD needs you," she says.

Her voice may be soothing, a soft breeze that gently flows over our innermost thoughts, touching our hearts and souls, speaking of things that mean so much to us, but lay hidden behind all the 'clutter' we allow to invade our brain. They are here, she whispers...those dreams you had as a child. They are here, she whispers, those hopes and expectations. They have not gone away. They live still, in a dark closet, waiting. I am watching over them for you.

Sometimes her voice is shrill, an angry blade on a sharpened sword, a sound that cuts to the core. WHY are you NOT LISTENING? she demands. WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING? The sound is a barbed wire tightening around your heart, piercing your soul, stabbing you in the eyes. I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! she screams. LISTEN TO ME!

But... you turn away, back to your daily tasks, with a small and perfunctory promise, "When I'm done with this, yes, when I'm done with this, I will open the closet and let the dreams out."

And the world spins. And the existence of art... stumbles. Because you will not stop and remember. Stop and remember the sand at the beach, when you were four. You made an amazing castle (though some thought it looked like a lopsided hill, so what?), and you played in it with your shovel and your pail and a shell you discovered when first you trudged on the beach that morning, and it became a world of fun and excitement - and your mother had to drag you away from it when it was time to go. The wind was whipping through the trees in the part behind the beach; people were scrambling to avoid the cold water as it crept closer to their blankets; clouds had appeared and the day was waning. Other children were whining, as you were, not willing to leave yet, not wanting to give up their marvelous creations to Mother Nature. "My castle," you shouted, reaching for it, but lost to it, because, after all, Mother (Mother Nature and the other Mother) was bigger than you.

Remember.

Stop and remember being in school, middle school, where the other kids were annoyed at the 'art' project. They were good in math and science (and yet, those too can be art); they wanted none of the creative nature of writing a story or painting a picture or becoming a made up person from the Planet of Pictorious (you don't remember Pictorious, do you? you made it up and it existed, yes it did! it exists still... with rolling hills and enormous trees and lakes that had a voice, and creatures that worked together to grow things and make things and laugh at each other; remember!).

The other children were reluctant to do this 'art project' but you, you were overjoyed! You put your all into it, your heart and soul, your very being became this art project. You created a new world with words and pictures. No artist you, but that didn't matter. Your words stood as tall as any landscape image, your crayons and colored pencils made something out of an imagination overflowing with desire, and YOU saw the world you created, even if no one else, other than the teacher, saw it. The teacher, who smiled in pride at you, gave you an A+ and put the story and the pictures on the wall...for a whole week! And, you basked in the glory.

Remember.

Stop and remember the wonder of your art. The art you were so proud of, all those days and weeks and years ago. The art pulsating within you, even now. The art that was going to change the world. You were so passionate about that. About the way art could influence people to BE what they were meant to be - full of goodness and helpfulness and love. The art that could speak to them on a personal level, beyond the daily tasks of eating breakfast, washing dishes, putting the garbage out. The art that wanted to step back from the onerous world of 'things' and 'doing' just to 'live' and become those things, create vast canvases of color and lines and shadow, in the doing, because to LIVE was an art in and of itself. What you were doing then, what so many were doing then...and now... was existing. You did not want to just exist. 

Remember.

There is no way around it. #theworldneedsART #artneedsYOU

As you remember, please, reach out to your neighbor, your friends, your family, and help THEM remember. We INVITE you to join us in Art as Action, in bringing BACK the marvels of artistic value... Join us... be with us... your inner artist calls you.