Regarding Good Art and Artists

  On occasion I find myself relieved that the human lifespan, typically speaking, is as long as it is. Because when I read the great works of the writers who immaculately and beautifully string together words with masterful precision and beauty when I gaze upon the artwork of artists who have a creative imagination and incredible technique too, and when I listen to the controlled, intentional keystrokes of master pianists, I am overwhelmed by a great sense of inferiority and awe. In part, this drives me to continue on my mission of becoming a better artist. I imagine that when he was my age, Jordan Peterson would have been a better artist in nearly every conceivable manner. Better writer, better speaker, better artist, better pianist, better dresser. And the attainment of these tremendous artistic capabilities obviously is not something that can be cultivated in an instant but rather requires the dedication of many quiet, focused hours. So, I do want to become a more cultured person by engaging in the pursuit of artistic glory step by step, since I know how much room I have for improvement currently.

But I am not only compelled to engage in these activities out of a desire for greatness; I am also being driven from behind by the fear of a monster chasing after me. It is the omnipresent monster of time, of fate, of judgment that in an instant can latch itself upon you and devour you. And that'll be the end of you. It is a terrible thing to realize that it is not only possible but also a reality of life that people die before or without achieving their true potential. You feel the monster every time you see a kid younger than you who has already accomplished much more than you and has a rapid rate of achievement. It is the feeling of panic you feel when you find yourself being easily overtaken in a foot race by a younger, faster competitor. If an individual fails to act with a sufficient sense of urgency, he will experience a growing and increasingly painful separation from his potential, like the widening gap between a slow runner and a fast runner. This idea may find expression through the scenario of a middle-aged man who has waited too long to get married and has passed his prime. Maybe this idea even resonates through in the tale of the workaholic businessman who missed his chance to bond with his now grown and distanced children. So yeah, it's not good enough to be a 20-year-old with the speaking ability of a 15-year-old, which is what happens when you slack off. Time is not present in infinite supply, so don't get too comfortable being where you are (even if you consider yourself to be in a good place currently).

But at the same time, a part of you wants to be devoured by the monster and to slip into the warm, dark, unconscious cavern of its belly. Because even though you will have been stripped of your freedom and experience, you will no longer be burdened by the moral responsibility to move forward effortfully. You will also be relieved of the burden to work hard, since you will be incapable of doing anything, really. Imagine you are sitting in the belly of this large, terrible underwater sea creature that has just swallowed you. You are in a dark place and you don't have contact with the outside world. Death has already befallen you in a sense because you have been eternally sentenced to monotony and darkness and are incapable of seeing or acting in the world. So if you're a rich, retired man with a loving wife and grown successful kids you may simply stop doing anything and simply await being swallowed by that terrible monster. That's exactly what the elderly couple did in the "Titanic" as they succumbed to the fate that threatened them. The idea of being eaten is terrible, but the idea of having been swallowed is relieving in its own right.