The Audacity

In Julia Camron’s, The Artist’s Way, she discusses shadow artists: artists ignorant of their true identity who take paths that shadow declared artists—by dating them, befriending them, or even taking jobs that work around them. This paragraph made me pause:

Artists love other artists. Shadow artists are gravitating to their rightful tribe but cannot yet claim their birthright. Very often audacity, not talent, makes one person an artist and another a shadow artist—hiding in the shadows, afraid to step out and expose the dream to light, fearful that it will disintegrate to the touch.

This is the first time I thought of the word audacity in a positive light. We don’t typically speak it that way. The joke comes to mind about the woman who asked about the male anatomy: If men don’t have uteruses and fallopian tubes and all that, what fills the space where that is missing? Answer: That’s where they keep their fucking audacity!

Look, I don’t like to use the f-word often, but it really makes the joke.

I think of one of my daughter’s ex-boyfriends who had the audacity to pound on her bedroom door—in my house!—demanding she come out and speak to him. The audacity he had in blowing up her phone, even more if she ignored it, as if she were at his beck and call. As if she belonged to him. As if he owned the rights to her attention. I think of the history of the patriarchy in general. I can think of many more examples of this kind of audacity, which is the #2 definition on dictionary.com: rude or disrespectful behavior, impudence.

But the #1 definition for audacity is the willingness to take bold risks. This is a more neutral definition of the word, as the risks could be good or bad. But they are costly and the outcome is unknown. I began thinking about this new, positive spin that Camron gave to audacity. The one that makes artists. It’s taken audacity for me to become an author. I remember not telling hardly anyone when I was working on my first book, feeling like I was telling them something ridiculous, like I was trying out for American Idol. Why was it so embarrassing to share? Because of the audacity! And I think about the audacity it took for me to open a coffee café at a mere 22-years-old. Man, the things I would have missed out on without audacity!

Think about the audacity it takes to believe. The audacity to show up to church. To try and find God. To want to hear from him. To wait.

God wants us to be this kind of audacious. But then I think of Peter and his misplaced audacity. This word and what it signifies can be both good and bad. Audacity could just be plain stupid. Certainly scary. Which is why so many talented people don’t pursue their artistry. Audacity is vulnerable. The good kind is willing to be worked with, which is why Peter’s was misplaced—not impudent—growing into something beautiful and powerful. I see myself here. And, you know what? I think that some of my biggest haters don’t hate my words or my teaching so much as they hate my audacity. It’s not as much about what I’m putting out there, but that I’m doing it. Living. Digging. Sharing. Encouraging others to do the same. I’ve put my work and myself out there with great cost and great reward.

There’s no substance in the #2 definition of audacity. It’s empty. It takes. Presumes. There’s no art in it. It fills that space where a uterus should be, nurturing, giving life and sanctuary.

I want to meditate on how we can cultivate a holy audacity in ourselves and one another. Drawing out that inner artist. Beckoning belief. Helping one another find our treasures and share them with the world. Which leads to the Giver. The True Creative. Knowing that when we need correction, critique, and growth, he takes our hand and pulls us out of the water, mends a sliced off ear, restores us to his love, and commissions us in it.

Blessed is the one who responds, Here I am!