loneliness | The Direction of Intention

The Spirit Of Play [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on April 24, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

In a fit of serendipity, while awash with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, this morning I opened The Marginalian and found musings about loneliness:

“Jungian analyst Robert A. Johnson groups all the possible lonelinesses into the three core kinds that pulsate beneath our daily lives and govern our search for love: the past-oriented loneliness of missing what once was and never again will be, the future-oriented loneliness of longing for what could be but has not come to pass, and what he calls “the profound loneliness of being close to God… The first two lonelinesses are rooted in time…The third kind of loneliness deals not with the temporal but with the eternal; it exists outside of time — like music, like wonder, like love.“[Maria Popova, The Marginalian, April 20, 2025]

Yearning for the past. Fear of the future. Disappearing into the now.

I’ve spent my entire life standing in front of an easel. The younger me was trying to get to something behind the eyes. He was reaching into the mystery to try to understand it. Paint was the means to get there. I miss that man. A later version of me became burdened with trying to get eyes to see what I had painted. He was trying to reconcile the inner pursuit of the mystery with the outer necessity of paying the bills. His valuation became wonky, sometimes confusing personal worth with sales of his paintings. His intention split. He questioned the price of pursuing the mystery. When the acknowledgment finally set in that he would never have pieces in museums or coffee table books written about his work, he struggled but soon realized his struggle was akin to a butterfly breaking free and shedding a cocoon.

Two kinds of loneliness. No one can go with you when you gaze into the past; sense-making what-was is a solo journey. Similarly, no one can accompany you into the cocoon or know what lies beyond.

I loved this phrase in the article: “…the existential disorientation of feeling your transience press against the edge of the eternal, your smallness press against the immensity…” That perfectly describes how I now feel standing before my easel: small.

Kerri sat with me in the studio. I have two tiny canvases sitting on the easel. As I was describing what I was intending she stopped me and challenged me to do something new. She challenged me to let go of what I know. She asked me to step beyond my comfortable place into the mystery. I knew she was right. I know it is the only way forward. That is why I miss terribly the younger version of me who didn’t know any better. He threw paint with enthusiasm because he didn’t know any other way. He lived each day on a new trail; exploring.

I heard Horatio in my head: “Paint crap!” he said, howling, a laughing Buddha. “Paint lots and lots of crap.” Stepping onto a new trail is lonely. And, that’s the point. There’s nothing like not knowing what’s ahead to open the eyes (and heart) to the greater mystery (read: possibility), to fill-up withwonder, to resurrect the spirit of play.

from the archives: LAUGH, 18″x24″ oil on canvas (the collection of Marian Jacobs)

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FENCE

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday, Edges | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, loneliness, love, mystery, not knowing, step into the unknown, story, studio melange, The Marginalian, the melange, transience, wonder, yearning | 1 Comment »

Come Home [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on March 19, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

I don’t know why but this photograph reminds me of a song by Dan Fogelberg:

End of October
The sleepy brown woods seem to
Nod down their heads to the Winter.
Yellows and grays
Paint the sad skies today
And I wonder when
You’re coming home…

Old Tennessee from the album Captured Angel. I played this album – this song – over and over again when I was painting. I could sing loud in my studio because no one could hear me. So, permission to sing horribly and with gusto. My fantasy musician fulfilled!

Woke up one morning
The wind through the window
Reminded me Winter
Was just ’round the bend.
Somehow I just didn’t
See it was coming

It took me by surprise again.

It was present with me the moment she took the picture and showed it to me. “Lookit!” she said. “It looks like a glimmer wand!” A glimmer wand. A wish ready to be granted. And the lyrics began running through my mind. A song of loneliness. A song of yearning.

End of October
The sleepy brown woods seem to
Nod down their heads to the Winter.

Yellows and gray
Paint the sad skies today
And I wonder when
You’re coming home
I wonder when you’re coming home.

Later, looking at the photograph, I realized that we – Kerri and I – are singing a song of yearning. We are awaiting the glimmer wand, the wish to be granted. A coming home. A return to ourselves. Lost jobs, broken wrists, all wrapped up in a global pandemic…Artistry as we knew it went missing. The life that we knew was lost.

For awhile we waited in silence. And then we went looking. And now, we know better. There is and never will be a return to what was. It cannot be found. Rather than seek for what was lost, we realized that it’s time to get acquainted with what is. Not artistry as it was but as it is. As it will be. Learning anew who we are. Now.

This life! As Kerri would say (in her cartoon self): “Sheesh!”

Somehow I just didn’t
See it was coming

It took me by surprise again.

read Kerri’s blog post about GLIMMER WAND

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, Identity, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: artistry, Captured Angel, Dan Fogelberg, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, glimmer, glimmer wand, grief, homecoming, hope, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, loneliness, loss, Old Tennessee, silence, story, studio melange, surprise, the melange, wish, wish granted, yearning | 4 Comments »

Try This [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on July 19, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

A lonely cloudy day. I wandered through a farmer’s market. The sun-baked-old-man behind the table looked up, waved me over, cut a slice of peach and said, “You have to try this.” I accepted his offer. I couldn’t believe how delicious it tasted. Seeing the taste-revelation in my eyes, he told me a thing or two about peaches. I bought a few and continued on my way, no longer feeling alone.

The other day, after yet-another-day of fruitless job searching (good pun, yes?), Kerri cut a peach and we stood at the counter, savoring. I was tossed back in time to that lonely day, the sun-baked-farmer, the taste revelation. I can’t recall a thing he told me about peaches but I vividly remember the taste. I remember the kindness in our conversation. He wasn’t in a hurry. He had all the time in the world to share with me what he knew.

Sometimes, as I recount these experiences, I wonder if they happened the way I remember them or am I determined to give them a positive spin? Was that old farmer as kind as I paint him? Did he see a lonely man passing his booth and cut a peach to lift his spirits? Or, was he a really good salesman? Or both/and? I want to believe in his generous spirit. I felt it. So I will hold on to my interpretation. He knew about peaches. He knew about loneliness. He knew one thing might help the other.

A second hand lesson from way back: Find the artists. Ask them to tell you about what they know. People like to share their stories, their knowledge, their foibles, their wisdom. And, most importantly, assume everyone is an artist.

Sometimes it’s a simple as cutting a peach…

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACHES

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Filed under: Art, Flawed Wednesday, Gratitude, Story | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, farmer's market, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, kindness, knowledge, loneliness, meaning making, memory, peaches, sense memory, story, studio melange, the melange, wisdom | 3 Comments »

Think On Thee [on DR Thursday]

Posted on February 3, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

I memorized Sonnet 30 for an acting class when I was in school. “When to the sessions of sweet silent thought…” For reasons I can’t explain, I still remember it. I can barely remember my zip code but Sonnet 30 has stuck around. “…I summon up remembrance of things past.”

I watched Dogga this morning. Standing in the middle of the yard, barking for friendship’s call. He’s not been the same since BabyCat passed. He’s still trying to find his place. Each morning after breakfast, he returns to the kitchen and lays on the floor. It was his ritual with BabyCat. They’d mooch some bites and when there was no more hope of food, they’d jump down and snooze together in the kitchen. Now, he assumes his usual spot but only for a few minutes. It’s not the same so he moves to the backdoor or the rug in the living room.

He’s always been a snow dog. When we think it’s too cold to go out, he thinks it’s balmy and perfect. After his daily unsuccessful bark-and-response, he finds a good pile of snow and lays in it. I tell Kerri that he is surveying his vast territory. He’s an Aussie so he likes having a job. Surveying the territory, watching for marauding squirrels, provides purpose. There is no more joyful moment in our house than when it’s time to take out the trash. He loves being the advance team. He leaps vertically at the back door, his joy is too great for his little body to contain. Clearing the yard of danger, I have safe and secure passage to the cans and back to the house.

This morning, as I watched him snuggle into his snow pile, Sonnet 30 rushed to the fore of my mind. “But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor’d, and sorrows end.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOWDOG

All My Loves (detail) 24x48IN, mixed media

Filed under: DR Thursday, Gratitude, Love | Tagged: artistry, Aussie pup, BabyCat, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dogga, dogs, friendship, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, loneliness, longing, love, remembrance, snow, snow dog, Sonnet 30, story, studio melange, the melange, William Shakespeare | Leave a comment »

Let The Pieces Fall [on KS Friday]

Posted on May 22, 2020 by davidrobinsoncreative

longing copy

“It is the paradox of spiritual growth that through such bleak midwinter journeys we eventually come through a hidden door into a bright field of springtime that we could never have discovered otherwise. This is the heart of the mystical. It is not about building protectionist armour of prayer and religion; it is, rather, the courage for absolute divestment. In the sheer vulnerability of Nothingness everything becomes possible in a new way, but there is an immense temptation to flee back to the shelter of old complacency. Now could be the most important moment in life to steel our courage and enter the risk of change.” ~ John O’Donohue, Beauty

Parcival returned to the place in the deep woods where he’d stripped off his armor. Was it yesterday? A year ago? Two? He couldn’t remember. While he searched for the place he remembered with satisfaction the battles he’d waged, the ogres he’d defeated. The mission he’d served. He longed to once again inhabit that simple clarity, that single focus.

His old armor was not hard to find but it looked nothing like he remembered it. No longer shiny and hard, it was brittle with rust and covered in moss and vines. Nature was reclaiming it. Still, he wanted to put it back on. He wanted to forget the reasons he took it off in the first place. The loneliness. The fear. Forever fighting the lost cause, the imagined foe. He wanted to remember the good and ignore completely the painful parts of the story. He could go back! He could be the great knight once again.

His vision crumbled like his armor when he attempted to pick it up. Going back was a fantasy. Retreating back in time, donning again his old armor, was perhaps the final ogre to fight. Like all of the other ogres, it, too, was an illusion. He let the rusty pieces fall back to the forest floor.

Now, allowing the full force of his vulnerability, the utter absence of role or definition, he no longer yearned for the tight closure of what was, but wholly surrendered to the expansive, the infinite and uncontrollable new.