We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.
There has been a bit of talk concerning my last entry about the difference between knowledge and wisdom. A consensus strikes at the combination of having knowledge and knowing how to use it.
We are all receptacles of information, too much sometimes. The passing fads and the gossip tend to take up too much importance in our lives. Well, all right, in some people's lives. It almost seems that you don't know anything if you don't know the latest bit of superficial information that passes into oblivion almost as soon as it emerges from the public fog.
I like gathering information, that's why I'm a addicted reader of everything that passes before my eyes. I like to know what's in my can of beans as much as what the historians say about Thermapolae. But when does it become knowledge? When does it get tucked away in the tool box or the paint box for later use?
That's where the artist steps in, the artist that lives inside everyone, the maker of things. There's art and there's art. There are simple songs and symphonies, embroidered samplers and murals, limericks and novels. teaspoons and temples The woman who collect yarn of different colors because she knows what to do with them is going to turn her knowledge into something beautiful. It's because she wants to make something beautiful that gives her the wisdom.
To echo what I wrote yesterday, in the process of turning knowledge into wisdom,, whether in art or in life, settling for less than the best you can do is not an option.