I was visiting with my sister over the holidays and we got to talking.
We talked about kids, work, movies, music, all kinds of stuff. You know the way girls are.
Our conversation touched briefly on Adele, and how much we are floored by her voice. Her voice and the raw passion that comes through in her music.
My sister said, "I don't know who the hell he was or what he did to her, but I think we all owe a debt of gratitude to the man that trampled all over her heart and ripped her apart. We can thank him for her songs, and for the way she sounds when she sings them."
Well, I'm paraphrasing of course, because I surely can't remember anything past what I had for breakfast most days, but her point stuck with me: Sometimes the best in art comes from the worst in pain. Adele is amazing? Let's thank the lover responsible for her heartache.
Of course, she's not alone in her suffering. Van Gogh, Beethoven, Maya Angelou, Ray Charles and Marlon Brando are a few of the countless artists throughout history that would maybe not have achieved what they did without a little suffering sprinkled into their lives.
So I'd like to send out my sympathies to all artists who have ever suffered at the hands of another, or from fate in general.
And to all those who caused their pain, shame on you. But also a silent thank you for your role in the brilliance these artists have given to the world.
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