Overexposed

     Here in the west we've nearly eliminated all semblance of ritual from our daily lives.  From waking up without greeting or giving thanks to the sun , to going to bed without wondering at the moon.  We're more apt to ritualize our morning coffee and roll over to sleep after the 10 o'clock news.  I'm not entering into the debate of whether we as a society actually need rituals to thrive, just noting the near absence of them.
     Over the weekend I was thinking about an issue that many people who create art have.  Which is that many, including myself, are not comfortable with being referred to in public as an artist.  "John Doe, I would like to introduce you to Rob.  He is an artist."  Cringe...It's an introduction guaranteed to make me squirm.  Having been exposed to other artists' thoughts on this one I know I'm not alone.  In fact, I would guess I am among the majority. 
     Of course, there are artists who are comfortable with the title.  Maybe after having involved themselves in the arts for some time or they've just accepted the title as being inescapable.  Or maybe they feel deserving of the handle.  For me, the word conjures up visions of saint-like souls devoting the entirety of their lives to the practice and perfecting of their art through history.  Be they painters, musicians, poets, novelists, playwrights, composers or whatever flavor their expression has evolved into; they are among an elite group that is set aside from the rest of the population throughout history.  People who have proven themselves to be dedicated to their vision and pursued it as long and as far as they could.  It's an exalted place in my mind.  To get there the path is long, and the passage narrow.
     So when is it that a girl becomes a woman?  After what trial or test?  How many are there before the boy has earned the distinction of being a man?  It's analogous to when has someone who makes art earned the title their heroes assert themselves with?  I suspect most, even in that exalted group, never feel/felt truly at home with it.  When have you earned the right to rub elbows with the divine?  To break intellectual bread with the masters and meet their gaze as one who belongs?