An acceptance of total independence.

At the mouth of a deep dive down into the practice - into the belly of the beast - a moment's pause: a breath.

And within that breath, the monumental task of accepting with complete faith, the totality of one's own artistic independence. 

It goes beyond the recognition of being a special flower in a sea of other special flowers.  

We have to not only heed the fact that we are walking our own paths, but accept the fact that nobody else will understand why our path looks the way it does. (Curves, drops, veers sharply off to the left and then disappears beneath the undergrowth, its presence only knowable by our quiet, darkened selves.)

That we may even be ostracised - alienated - for walking a path such as this one. We will certainly feel alone. A lot of the time. But this time we know, the solitude will be healing. Nourishing. Invigorating.

And we have walked so far as it is. 

We have walked, grown tired, and diverged from the path in the hopes of walking more like others; walking paths more easily accepted; asking less from the journey; asking "the right things".

We've been so lost. 

And now we find ourselves standing deep within the forest. Having travelled this far. A little cut, scarred; a little bruised by the nature of things. But otherwise ready. 

We stand at the precipice of a much darker, barely defined path. A path that might only make itself apparent after we have taken each footstep. 

And so, a pause. Because the only way to walk this path with pure devotion - without wavering - is to accept this total and all-encompassing independence. Faith that if we are swayed away from the true work, then the path will, by its very nature, cease to exist.