Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to truly find ourselves. We have to move in new ways and listen to
new songs, to reach for distant stars but keep our feet planted on Mother Earth. We have to reject what we
hate about ourselves and embrace our best qualities. For Corey, finding himself meant resolving his inner war with
art. He needed a stronger foundation to break out of the prison of the past and step into his destiny. To become
who he wanted to be required self-love and self-mastery above all.
~*~
Corey squatted in front of a 4-foot wide, 3-foot thick, 6-foot tall smoothly sanded block of basswood. He’d been staring at it for three hours, periodically moving his chair around to study its contours from different perspectives. Indifferent motherfucker. It was blank. It was nothing inside of nothingness, a mirror of his deficient imagination.
It felt so yielding in his hands at first. The sawdust flew softly as if shedding skin to reveal the soul within. For weeks, he sanded in a state of euphoria. But the moment he started to chisel, the wood closed up like a tomb.
Jax would be shocked at how much cash he blew on the wood. Transporting it to the apartment cost almost as much. At the time, he got it deep in his head that this gorgeous indulgence would bring an end to his creative block. Now he wanted to chop it all up into firewood. He stared with helpless...