"The Pursuit of a Dream; The Bain of my existence"
I read a quote once by a man named Albert Camus. I apologize for not knowing anymore about him--or researching any further than this simple mention here in this article; but what's relevant is this: He was once quoted as saying, "It's not the struggle that makes us artists, but art that makes us struggle." I considered those words heavily when I first found them and more so as my career has progressed along with my personal struggle to come to terms with my life as an artist--my life in acceptance of my gift. I am fond of quoting Mr. Paulo Coelho, author of my favorite literary tale: The Alchemist, when he said, 'We who fight for our dream suffer far more when it doesn't work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse: "Oh well, I didn't really want it anyway.' We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in this journey." He ends this magnificent passage with, "...we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the Universe is conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how."
I cannot tell you how many times I have mentioned this passage, either on my show or in written word, or even more so when I am face to face with someone asking me about my life as an author. It's the most common question I get with relation to my life: What is it you do? I usually laugh and tell them I'm a writer or an author. I tell them I do many things, most of which is study, research and practice learning to perfect a gift--a God given gift. I believe that great gifts come from Heaven above and never once have I denied this simple truth. I am thankful for the gifts I was given and in a sense I pat my own back for having the courage to follow the passion of my heart. I am blessed in a life that at times I would not wish on those I love. To live a life of servitude to the very heart of your existence, --a slave to your trade--is a lonely life indeed. For years I tried to understand what it was that made me so different, such an oddity. What was that special something if you will that singled me out in a crowd or secluded me from the masses entirely? It can't be in any way that I am better than the next man or woman, for if I truly believe my gift comes from God, then I have to appreciate that I have no right to boast of my abilities without acknowledging that I am nothing without my gift or of little significance without recognizing the One who so graciously bestowed this gift within my life. I would cease to exist in a world of committed excellence if I chose to ignore this simple truth. And for every day that passes that I am thankful and happy in my state of being, I am tormented for simply being a creative soul.
Life is a struggle and the battles and wars that are waged within our lives are all necessary steps towards progression and growth. We can spend a lifetime learning how to become our very best and that would not be a wasted life. I don't believe in overnight success but rather I am committed to dubbing the phrase of Mr. Jeff Olson who says, "Success is a process, not the destination." I consider the actions of men who preach, of men who teach the holy gospel. I consider also those who work in professions where you are required to give so much more of yourself than those who opt to live a normal life. I have been blessed in my life with the people who have come to call me friend. I am as open and naked as a book and still as private as a locked door with no key. I choose very carefully who I will share my inner secrets with and then throw those same secrets in the face of the world when I feel the world has turned its back on me. I have come to call a new friend special to me. And in recent conversation with her we discussed this very concept of struggle and balance and what she calls the ionic forces that stabilize our lives. In getting closer to her, she has come to know sides of me that aren't apparent on the air with relation to my show, The Soul of Humanity or within words on this blog. I have struggled to be completely honest with people as I hide behind my laptop and the colorful layout of my websites. With poetic flair and passion I have tried to inspire the masses to believe, for I struggle with my own relentlessness and desires to press forward, one more step, one more try, within the journey of my own life. And for every small feat of accomplishment, there is a new hill, a new mountain of struggles waiting to be overcome, all in the name of success in pursuit of a dream that is also the Bain of my existence.
I cannot tell you why I am writing this particular article except I felt obligated to be honest, more so than usual with those who follow my words, my story, my journey as an author, a talk radio host and an artist. I share every accomplishment as though it were truly great and I hide those setbacks and mountains of doubt that tower over me like a storm cloud meant to rain on only me. And for as much as I try to be a good salesman, promoter and marketeer for the efforts of my career, my life, my business and my future, there is still a dire need to tell the complete truth. There is a desire to say that for every moment of success I create with the wholehearted efforts of my being, there is an exact moment I wish I could throw it all away, quit, and pretend it never happened. There is a side of me that wishes it ignored the call of the Lord, the beckoning of my soul to take a stand for what is right, what is pure and what is good. Because to follow the true path of our purpose in this world, means we have to strip away everything we have ever wanted in lieu of the struggle that will chip away, tear down and rebuild us in the image of what we were meant to be when we were born. And that is the hardest part of it all.
There is a reason artists struggle so much. We struggle so that we can identify with a world that only knows struggle. No one would believe or encourage or support the person who was given everything only to compare a struggle when they couldn't have more. The world identifies itself the most with those who rise up from the ashes to meet ruin in the face and overcome it with mere tools and simplicity as if somehow we too have slayed the dragon. My life won't always be this way but it is what it is. I live a life of the artist who struggles to come to terms with a purpose and a plan for my life. I cannot hold down a 9-to-5 job because it isn't in me to be caged within a cubicle or confined to time limits on my performance. I cannot share in the delights of a steady paycheck within the world of false securities. I am only normal when I write. Meals are something I earn and I am overly gracious when I get them, for they aren't steady. Someone asked me recently, how will you know when you are becoming more successful? I answered simply: When I can eat three meals a day, pay my rent and afford the lifestyle of contribution that has been set before me, the lifestyle required of me now that no longer comes free. When I can sleep and rest at night because I am not afraid of how I might survive the next day, after having spent hours upon hours working for free. When I can survive in this lonely solitary world utilizing the gifts and talents I have been given and fend off the word loser, then I suppose I would have crossed that hill, stumbled through the mountain and washed off the rains that have covered the sunlight within my life.
There is duality that is Bobby Ozuna. There is the man who stands for what is right, built only to inspire a world to believe in a cause of Good. Then there is the other side of him, the one that wishes only to tear down the walls of the world around him and throw it all away for spite. I believe our greatest artists of the world, the deep thinkers, the poets, the writers, authors, painters, sculptors, musicians and dancers have all suffered greatly. They had to. For without the suffering they would not appreciate the harmony and balance that comes with overcoming the struggle. I suppose now the question is: How long will it last? How long will I be a slave to my heart's blood? Only God knows and only time will tell. See there, I already feel better...
~Bobby Ozuna
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