fate as malleable as clay

"We sailed away on a winter's day,
with fate as malleable as clay..."
- joanna newsom

Technically, the spring equinox just occurred.

But it's still a winter's day on which I'd like to sail away into a malleable fate.

I am thinking of Joanna Newsom--her words and her self--her sweetness, smartness, quirkiness, and especially her artistic courage to be both sweet and quirky before the mixed audience of the world. She flings her personality outward to let the chips fall where they may. I picture her with closed eyes, doing a spiritual somersault into mid-air. And in that act of trust big-hearted people are inevitably there to catch her with devotion, even though many are bound to turn askance with embarrassment and keep their arms at their side.

Perhaps the majority are bound to reject her, de facto. Perhaps the majority are bound to reject everyone, de facto. Each individual is fated to win the hearts of a few, not the masses. But even a small audience can only be won with artistic courage; without courage, even the paired down audience of a few who would be there to catch you go un-won.

I have half her quirkiness and none of her courage to present it to an audience which includes the majority. (Every audience includes the majority.)

Expressions are aborted by the fear of criticism. All must perceive me as normal, normal, normal. All must perceive me as a safe list of the safest sort of things: controlled, practically asexual, strong, not overly sweet, not at all sappy, capable and efficient in only the most generic and broadly approved-of tasks.

And in the suppression and contortion of personality for the sake of safety I am anything but normal, and possibly quite insane.

The malleable fate I'm hoping for is: not to be so cowardly forever.

Two tongues of fire...

A fire in the wintry heart of Central Park
Originally uploaded by Julia Wickes.

...in the wintry heart of Central Park.