Now that I have all my little basket-community dreams coming true, I am obliged to face a few of my demons about making baskets, and art in general.
I have this bad demon (an utterly entrenched mental habit) that insists that only useful things (and people) have value; art is merely either frivolous trinket-stuff, or entertainment and trade for the wealthy. At its worst, this habit makes me wish I could lobotomize myself and get rid of my creativity altogether, because it really gets in the way of pursuing useful things such as a lucrative career.
I can see that this habit is one more stony mass binding me into orbit around 'survival'. In an orbit around 'survival', it makes sense that only 'useful' things have value.
Of course I can argue that even in my own experience, I feel that art has value: I love going into Strathcona because there are little bits of art and creativity on display on every corner; in some blocks, on every house and in every garden. It's lovely, it brings me great pleasure and happiness. In my friend Renee's house, she has paintings -- real ones! -- and the vibration of the colour relationships alone is enough to captivate me.
"But," the voice says,"Back to business. This has to go somewhere. Someone has to pay for all this. Who is going to do the paying!"
I am a little kid again, trying to figure out where my meals are going to come from when I am big, and alone in the world.
But I don't want you to think that I believe it's hopeless. I know that once I can accept these ideas as constructions of my own mind, if I am diligent, and persistent, I will be able to sustain mindfulness of this habit and gradually lift myself out of it, gently. The questions will always be there, and blows and disappointments may send me back to them; but for the most park, I should be able to stop asking, and simply leave them behind.