Safe

How can a small, off-the-cuff comment about one's painting style weigh like a monkey on your back?
Little children are wonderful for these type of truthful, spur of the moment comments. I remember one time my daughter saying, "Your dress looks like the curtains." Wonderful enlightenment to hear right before you head out the door, giggle now, but quiet the opposite effect at the time. Every woman wants to look like a curtain or worse the sofa.
Now maybe, the best thing to do is not listen to these things. But, in fact, I don't know that these small type of comments are heard deeper in the mind than a direct conversation. I've no proof. It makes me wonder things I might have said to others that hang in their memories that were never ever meant to be anything other than a passing comment.
Maybe comments on ones actions are more personal?
The word that has bothered me is the word safe. I've been told I was safe and it really bothered me. Now I am a safe type person. You won't catch me walking on a tightrope.  My legs get wobbly just thinking about heights.
At the time I was told my paintings are safe. Maybe that's ok. Whats wrong with safe? Maybe they meant something other than safe? Maybe it was just a passing comment and nothing at all was meant by it. And I thought, I'm not safe, and, well yeah I am, and this back and forth in my mind. But today I accept the fact that if I am safe well it's fine. It's me.
Then last night readings revel this quote, "According to theoreticians of the late Baroque period, a painter should wield the brush like a swordsman fighting a duel, slashing, cutting and jabbing, so that the brush strokes acquired an energy and expression of their own, and became fascinating exhibitions of skill quite apart from the subject matter." So I should learn how to fight. Take up the sword. Maybe. Sounds interesting. Will keep you updated.