Martin is the better for it every single time the two of us can reach outside ourselves.

Into a community. The word community is not an idle one with me.

Martin is terrified of community.

He doesn’t know one that hasn’t almost killed him.

Yet.

My job is to bring him into the nest, and then begin to build for Martin the kind of boot that will kick him out of it.

Bur first, Martin has to know he can survive in it. Then, out of it.

Replacing that anxiety can take forever with some kids. Boys who do not communicate form a kind of feedback loop of failure.

It was scary for Martin to do what he did last night by articulating his ideas into a public arena.

He survived.

No one punished him.

He went back to bed and the nightmares went away.

Child, heal theyself.

And so we do.

But you cannot take the tools we need to climb out of our boxes and be done with us. If we need that image to be of blood at that time then that is what we will do, and, yes, there can be consequences. That is the world. We are social animals. Both Heather and Martin MUST use the tools that are available to them at whatever appropriate time THEY choose because it’s not about the audience.

It’s about them.

In whatever context they want to paint.

There are always people who value more structure.

I used to just shove them aside angrily.

Now, I tend to smile, and walk around them.

They aren’t malevolent.

I don’t think.

But, I’m sorry, there’s just no time.

Martin needs me.

The audience does not need me.

It’s not about them.

It’s about two poets writing poetry. With whatever structure they want to fit it around.

Because that is the very definition of ART, and especially when art is a living thing, it has LIFE, because it is life.

It is also a door for Martin to walk through when he is ready.