Meandering Morning pt. 2

I think it should be illegal to criticize other's public art if you've never shared your own in such a large platform. We should all have to share our art so publicly before raising sharp criticism. It just seems so clearly immoral, reckless, and harmful to our collective as a whole. It's also disturbing. It's disturbing to entertain how many people are so deeply depressed, repeating cyclical patterning of unconscious ill will upon another's creative perspectives. There are so many people so willfully destructive that they may effort towards minimizing the striking and bold vulnerability of others in order to feel more seen themselves. In order to validate their own life's presence. We've ousted the coolness factor behind cynicism, labeling it masculine, advocating too often for the devil to remain socially acceptable in the zeitgeist. Criticism is "lit" though. And no, not the intellectual debate kind. But that of human beings doing and sharing their most quintessential forms. You comment how much you hate the way Becky does her hair in her youtube tutorial, or the basic and mediocre song Jonathan wrote. You spend thoughtful time artfully crafting just why you hate so many things. It's in our millennial bloodline. It's criticism, and often, it's entitlement. And I know it well. I know it best in the dark. I know it's most shrewd voice in my ear speaking belittling words to myself every time I think about my bank account, or decide what to eat for a meal. I know it on my way to auditions and I know it's voice overlapping on a track of repetition between glances, words, and silence traced between conflict with my lover. I've used criticism successfully to receive laughs and validation. I've used it to validate my own intellect. I've used it to connect to new people most immediately. I've used it when angry and disappointed in the way I have allowed the critical shame monster to imprison me with neurosis keeping me from sharing my creative gifts, leading me to sink in, to feel small and useless. When you know how much you have to give, and you know that you aren't giving it because the opinions of other's are holding you back, you feel selfish, and empty. And that's what that crippling fear does. It makes you selfish, withholding all the love, connection and unique perspectives that you were brought in this carnation to share. You know people are yearning for it, but you just can't bring yourself to share it for the same reasons that you find yourself taking such thorough craftsmanship in your critical comment. You know that others will do the same to you and your soul's work. We live in a time where the degree of exposure that is accessible most immediately to all of us in the social space is some of the most fragile and dangerous positioning one has been able to find themselves in throughout all of history. No, we are not experiencing famines. Disease is often treated. But our mental health has no protections. There is no refuge from such exposure. When I see others express fiery criticism of inspiring, creative vulnerability, no matter how big or small, it's almost as if my fears have manifested most largely. And often, they're even bigger monsters than I had previously dreamed up. I wish people could be conscious around the mediums we're finding ourselves exposed through. Not fully seen and far too seen at the same time.