B.S. is a bad word.
(It stands for Blatant Selfishness. But you knew that already.)
Yeah, that stuff. That garbage we artists think and say and do that comes from self-pity, not from our gifts.
In my experience, artists seem particularly prone to B.S., maybe because we tend to live inside of ourselves, thinking, feeling, internalizing every experience. Many of us experience life in a heightened way, and this wonderful gift fuels our art.
It also sabotages us.
And every now and then, we need called out. Because it’s easy to forget the world doesn’t revolve around us, or our next masterpiece, or the plight of our underpaid tribe in general. (Let’s face it: professionals in many fields are underpaid.)
At these times, we all need a B.S. Blademaster, a Shaman of Shit-Calling, a courageous someone, a living-breathing anyone, who will knock us off our pedestals, apple boxes, easels, or whatever other high object we’ve climbed atop to sulk.
Fortunately, I have several such people in my life.
One of them is my business partner T. Reed.
I feel very blessed to be in a business relationship with someone who knows my most self-pitying side (the one I try to hide from the rest of the world) and whacks it upside the head … with incredible grace.
Really, why would you parter with anyone who can’t do that for you, and you for them? (Although T. might argue that I’m still working on the grace part …)
Anyway, yesterday I got a reminder that the problems in my artistic world are actually small. That shouldering them, sorting them out, and creating a product that benefits others is my gift. Complaining isn’t.
I’m thankful that T. isn’t afraid to call my B.S.
Who calls yours?