After you’ve been swirling around a nice little cocktail of midnight oil, creative fluid and LED light for long enough, you naturally start to hallucinate about Buddha materializing out of a giant radioactive lotus flower and telling you to “chill out and mediate for a New York second bruh.”
The wisest reaction to this cosmic encounter would be to take a mental picture of it, put that bad boy on an t-shirt and other things that aren’t shirts.
There are a lot of simple stories that reflect the simple meaning of Buddhism, and collectively, they form a continent-sized library of some of the most brain-twisting liturgy ever disagreed upon by thousands of people for thousands of years. Charles Xavier isn’t at good at psychology as the characters in short Buddhist stories are good at turning into dragons and abominable snowmen to prove a point.
But altogether, the basic meaning is that we’re perfect at being super not-perfect. What does this mean for artwork? It means the same thing whether you’re designing clothes or making a comic.
It means that your pencil lead makes precious diamonds, and your eraser only makes them more valuable. Each second spent on the design is actually a step closer to the masterpiece that existed as soon as your maker put you together as one of the picture-making humans they call
crazy people artists.
Your every mistake, setback and triumph is a vector towards becoming your best self, and by extension, creating a better piece than before.
Now our job is to just keep stressing, keep fighting for that perfect composition, keep telling ourselves just a little more, even though it’s already fine – because that’s what keeps us from being self-absorbed jerks. Sometimes.
Someone asked a Zen Master, “How do you practice Zen?”
The master said, “When you are hungry, eat; when you are tired, sleep.”
“Isn’t that what everyone does anyway?”
The master replied, “No, No. Most people entertain a thousand desires when they eat and scheme over a thousand plans when they sleep.”