Your art is important because it is. It is your greatest teacher. Through it, you learn all things. It forces you to confront yourself, to settle into your own being, to stop turning away. It returns you to yourself and allows you to see clearly who you are without the stories, who you are without the running commentary, who you are in the stillness of solitude.
And who is that?
You cannot define yourself, only recognize yourself in the flow that you know is right because the remembering goes deep, all the way to the black core of beginnings, straight through to the light. It is you before, you after, and you all along—you that you forget everyday, you that you try to escape, you that beckons you back, heard through the little voice, felt through the shocks of inspiration that ripple then rip open, you that wakes you in the night, you that is you forever, you who is ashamed over the long distances you have traveled in the wrong direction, and you who weep at your own return.