Amara's 31st Birthday Card

Front of card

Inside of card

Ego

Mental Chaos

Ego

Ergo

I go

A more authentic poem I never wrote. Of course, it seems so obvious that my negative ego, my dark, evil (or evil with a d) ego hovering on my shoulder haunts me with the reality that this is probably not the original time these four words were put together. This denigrating aspect of ego is the bane of my existence. It does battle with my adoring, creative, inspirational ego in the form of jealousy or demoralizing me. It is an ego of judgment, comparison and ugly allegory. In any case, it does not make me happy. It is not why the artist in me has demanded to be honored my entire life without much financial return. It is the bane of my existence- the desire to be a creative person- the mental block.

So I move my laptop aside and go to another surface where I am creating a greeting card. This holiday card is to tell my lonely younger sister know how much I love her. That is the “thoughtful” ego I stroke for comfort and self-respect. It is the motivating ego. It is also inspiration for my ego because admittedly, the idea that I have the ability to comfort someone else is more fun than trying to figure out how to comfort my own ego.

However, self analytical words creep into my self-congratulatory process of creating a visual piece for someone else or as my studies to be an art teacher taught me, my left brain is doing battle with my right brain for attention. When I was teaching, I could share those brilliant kernels of knowledge and it was no longer all just for my ego.

I succumb to my verbal, analytical mind. I tell myself that most people write from their heart because they want to let that heart shine outside their chests in a glowing form of sharing brilliant insight. Shouldn't we be glad that there are those writers whose words entertain us so well as to take us on a vacation from ourselves no matter where we experience them? Writing is not just for our self-centered egos, I tell myself. Yet, sometimes reading is just wanting others words to lighten up our black and blue, bruised egos by letting us contrast ourselves to worse people in a worse place, even if they are just fictional. I, on the other hand, get jealous of a good writer's talent. Is that devil ego monkey on my shoulder teasing me again?

I decide I must complete some small visual production today or my ego's identity as an “artiste”, will die and with that so shall I. NO, I'm not ready to die; so, I finish the Christmas Greeting card I dreamt up in a nap with my grand-daughter the day before. It's inspiration came by way of an earlier phone call from my younger sister who needed comfort for her broken heart. The greeting card is a collage from a finished sketch I did this past September and is not what I envisioned the card to be but then; my creations have lives of their own and the surprise of the product is what makes it so much fun to do. That's another story. Today, at this holiday time of year my ego and I want to revel in what a wonderful big sister I am.

Tomorrow I may be a wonderful painter, illustrator, poet, writer or even a gifted improvisational actor with egg on my face. In any case, I can be sure my rapscallion ego will be there tripping me up and egging me on.

Two more finished Sketches from Sept. 2011