be cool, fool

you have to accept this
reality
whether you
sit at a punch press all day or
whether you
work in a coal mine or
whether you come home
exhausted from a cardboard box factory
to find
3 kids bouncing dirty tennis balls
against the walls of a
2 room flat as
your fat wife sleeps while
the dinner burns
away.

you have to accept this
reality
which includes enough nations with
enough nuclear stockpiles to
blow away the very center of the
earth
and to finally liberate
the Devil
Himself
with his
spewing red fire of liquid
doom.

you have to accept this
reality
as the madhouse walls
bulge
break
and the terrified insane
flood our
ugly streets.

you have to accept terrible
reality.

–Charles Bukowski

People who want to create often struggle with a lot of internal negative criticism comprised of scripts integrated from past comments, usually made by people important to the creator, and the fear of the unknown. There are many self-help books that give advice on how to “push back” in order to proceed with creating. Those books can be helpful at a certain point. I think of it as creative adolescence, where one doesn’t completely believe in her worth or right to create and needs the help of rebellion to forge ahead. It’s the process of individuation. However, the critic is not always the enemy. At some point, the critic might actually have helpful feedback. If we demonize a quality, we lose sight of the potential benefit that it may provide if applied carefully. An email conversation with Liora inspired me to look up the following passage from a beloved book.

Criticism was always the shortest kid in the class. He learned early to use words to defend himself. As a teenager, Criticism loved to take things apart. At that time he didn’t care if they ever got put back together. He retains a strong curiosity about how things work and a deep respect for tools. Criticism is a strict father. He adores his children, but he fears their spontaneity.

Sometimes I want to write Criticism a letter and tell him to leave me alone. The problem is that when I don’t see him for awhile, I start to miss him. Still, my conversations with him often make me nervous. I usually believe the bad things he says and forget about the good stuff. When we really disagree, I am upset for days and run around asking everyone I meet to reassure me. If I could trust him more, it would be different, but he changes his mind as much as I do. For all his sensitivity, it was years before he realized that other people also have feelings.

When Criticism looks at a painting, he sees the finished picture framed on the wall, and at the same time he sees the picture as it was being painted — what was drawn first, what went in last, where the artist hesitated, where the artist smiled. After Criticism lost his glasses, he discovered that he did not need them anymore. His focus is less acute, but he can see the whole picture better. The colors are more distinct when the outlines are blurred.

You can count on Criticism to have an opinion about everything. He is exceptionally well-read and usually knows what he is talking about. I don’t recommend that you speak to him when your project is in the beginning stages. However, as it approaches completion, he can be quite helpful. He is not interested in measuring what you or I do in relationship to each other or anyone else in our fields. At his best, he surveys the distance between our intentions and our accomplishments, between what we are and what we could be.

–J. Ruth Gendler, The Book of Qualities