This is a rant.
I’m going to start a “Fuck the why!” Club
When I start a painting I don’t ask it’s why.
it’s a fucking blank canvas…
I trust I’m going to go where it wants to go.
I just paint or draw or color.
That’s what artists do.
“Why are you doing it?”
What’s your why?
Because I fucking love doing what I’m doing.
It’s what I want to do in this 10 seconds.
This 10 minutes. This 10 hours.
As a learner of magnitude.
I like learning and
I hit a wall when I hear the fucking why question.
Every. Single. Time.
When I get caught up in the why…
it breaks my creativity down
into something I don’t like.
Then I stop creating.
The transmission gets wonky.
I’m enrolled in a podcast training,
it’s come to the point in the training
“find your why.”
What if I just want to talk.
Talk about things in the moment
Things that zing me.
Things that zing others.
I don’t know in this five seconds
what that’s going to be about.
I’m okay with the not knowing.
What if I myself permission to fuck the why?
How can I create an editorial calendar?
What if that doesn’t work for me?
Can one put Bigness into an editorial calendar?
Are you ready to wipe the canvas clean?
Fuck your why?
Questions I’m pondering.
Fuck the why.
Why belongs to mind control.
Why kicks you in the knee so you kneel and become manageable.
Why is what my engineer husband asked. To keep me under control.
All the whys mom gives, so she demonstrates she is in control. And has a good reason.
Why is how my BFF keeps her positiv.
The why game. Learned in childhood. To allow insecure parents to stay in control of their brilliant little ines.
Who know it.
Beyond the why.
Thank you… for your contribution around control. Something I didn’t see or understand. Mwah!