life comes in pulses, a spectrum of phased out emotions. the highs are the easiest: bright, energizing, lubricating all facets of your day into a seamless dash of watercolour on paper. any combination of hues and spatters will fill the void with balance, grace and peace.
but art is a rounded concept, full of validity in all directions, not just the ambit of beauty. for art is not just that which emulates an aesthetic landscape or the mien of a youthful woman. art is that which evokes emotion; raw or refined.
so when the dark crest of anger serpents into the moment, channel it. pitying yourself and all your misery is akin to hiding under blankets as a storm breaks the day. defy the powers which cannot be defeated. pick up your comet and launch it into the white cracks and grinding claps. this is the dazzling key, friend.
despite "karma" and "destiny" and "everything happens for a reason" being nothing more than fool's gold, it is entirely up to the transcendent man to counter every apparent aggression and adapt. adapt and soar. come jealousy or anger or despair or bleakness, you must fuel your body and mind. channel those energies. destructive energy, if used wisely, can create.
perhaps this is the ying yang pseudo truth the buddhists preached. perhaps not. perhaps this is what macgyver sought to teach. perhaps not.
only a fool lets his emotions drag him through time. yet even more foolish is the fool who believes the emotions can be stifled...
"the softness of flowing water will always prevail over hardness"; hard rock cliffs succumb to waves eventually, just as the rational will is bent by emotion.
the wise man stands above the foolish men because he knows that solely by accepting his chord can he resonate in harmony.
supercede the circumstance.