Revealing the Concealed

Ah, the mystique of Whole Foods. It gives off that “I am green, I am healthy, I am doing something to save the planet and the world by shopping here” vibe. To top it off, the Venice, CA location has two added components. First, half the people in the store at any given time of day are models or would-be actors, flaunting themselves and their bodies as they peruse the produce aisle and pick up kale and quinoa for their evening meal. It makes you feel like you should be wearing some kind of hip outfit, or at the very least, some make-up or some sort of scarf thrown about yourself in an artistic manner in an attempt to look half-way attractive. However, the model factor is nicely balanced by long-standing hippies from the community and the occasional homeless element, both of which tone down the glamor. At least a bit. Second, there are regular displays of art by local artists and live music on certain evenings. I discovered this the other day, as I ventured over in search of a certain natural supplement that will radically improve my well-being (as all natural supplements claim they will do). A live jazz trio was playing by the checkout lanes and their music echoed throughout the store. I was like, wow, not only am I superhealthy, supercommitted to the planet and supertrendy, I am also now supercultured. The live music made me feel an extra sense of refinement and subtly affirmed my decision to linger in the store and spend more money. In fact, there were so many illusions being propped up at one time, it was hard to keep track.

On the way out, customers will most likely pass the 99 cent store, which is located next door in the same shopping plaza. This immediately brings you back down to planet earth, even if you are still feeling good about your organic produce in your reusable hemp shopping bags. Nothing like two extremes to balance one another out. And actually, this is one of my favorite parts about urban life…a variety of people living in very close proximity. The jazz musicians and models and organic produce, and the bargain hunters and 99 cent merchandise, mixing and mingling, all forming a strange composite which I find fascinating.

I’m always interested in hearing people’s thoughts on what they would change in their lives if they could do them over again, or any significant regrets they have as they begin to reach their twilight years. I like to try and use any perspectives that resonate to make adjustments in my own life, small or big, in order to live my life in the fullest way possible.

I recently came across this anonymous person’s response to the question, “What is your most profound regret in life?”, and thought his insight was worth posting…

“Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I’ve ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing… Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away.”

And yet, there must be a reason that we rush, besides the fact that society encourages it. On some level, it must meet a need somewhere within us, otherwise we wouldn’t give in to the compulsion to move at breakneck speed. Maybe we rush to avoid discomfort or pain. Or we rush to forget. Or to fill a hole that won’t go away. Regardless of what it appears to satiate, rushing will only ever serve a function on the surface of our lives and will never manage to penetrate what is going on beneath. And more than that, it will keep us from every really experiencing life. And if we never truly experience life, think of all that we miss. To live in the unrushed moment and let it be enough…that is a difficult, but worthy pursuit.

If you stick with something long enough…eventually things start to happen. That’s how I feel this morning anyway. I managed to be at three different art events last night and had encounters with people I either recognized or have met before at each one. It’s looking like it’s possible to develop a sense of community in the art world, even in a city as vast as LA. This is quite heartening to me, as the first few years of making art here were relatively void of connections. Artists really do come together and support one another once they find each other.

In any occupation, no one else quite understands what you do as much as those who are doing the same thing. So, no matter how different your art may look from someone else’s expression, artists always share the commonality of birthing something and offering it up to the world in some capacity. This never fails to produce a feeling of camaraderie.