Written with Aaron’s weekly prompt in mind.
I wonder, am I allowed to call my scribblings art? My poetry and writings, are they art, or is that the wrong label for them? Last week I had a chat with a musician who was insistent that everyone who creates something is an artist in their own right and that we should claim that label for us again.
In my mind, I am not an artist. Musicians, photographers, painters, other writers… They are all artists, but not me. In my mind, there is a voice telling me that I am not good enough and that I am wasting time and space.
I feel as if I am pretending most of the time – which I am not, though. What you see is what you get; the only thing that is different in my daily life is that I am more open online and less timid. I am an introvert, after all.
What I do know, though, is that art inspires art. And if I follow MrSteJ‘s words, then I am allowed to call myself an artist too. And if I continue with that train of thought, then I should admit that yes, my writing is always inspired by music, photography, or even the poetry of someone else.
Maybe, art is what we allow to be art? Maybe everything is art. Just like everything is energy.
I guess I need to think about this some more.
reflections of an unquiet mind 
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