I want to insist like my friend Mira.
I want to insist that because I seek, there is space to find.
I want to insist that by seeking, I will know when I find space.
And in this space there is an organic, genuine, wholly honest vitality.
This exuberant vigor to realize there is space- to be sought out, to learn in, from, with and then to know, and therefore a possibility to execute effectively something:
fierce, poetic, audacious, earnest.....dare I claim: artistic?
I insist there is a space to create art in the way I see art because I am naming that I see.
Is my method sound?
My method has been seeking outward, and in this overabundance of stimuli and information and market in this great city, I forgot myself.
I sit in humble stillness to reflect and realize I am a soldier of fortune.
Walt Whitman said, "I loaf and invite my soul".
Owning my perception, knowing I am enough, seeing I have everything I need, is the first step in seeing how I am capable of giving to anyone else. How I can be capable to give cordially, artfully, compassionately, lovingly. Being vulnerable enough and giving unveils a balance.
Simple.
It is from this stillness, I know I can see. And I see wonderful things. I want to insist of myself that I share my fortune.
I recall the poem by Rumi, 'Each Note'
Advice doesn't help lovers!
They're not the kind of mountain stream
you can build a dam across.
An intellectual doesn't know
what the drunk is feeling!
Don't try to figure
what those lost inside love
will do next!
Someone in charge would give up all his power,
if he caught one whiff of the wine-musk
from the room where the lovers
are doing who-knows-what!
One of them tries to dig a whole through a mountain.
One flees from academic honors.
One laughs at famous mustaches!
Life freezes if it doesn't get a taste
of this almond cake.
The stars come up spinning
every night, bewildered in love.
They'd grow tired
with that revolving,
if they weren't.
They'd say, "How long do we have to do this!"
God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.
Each note is a need coming through us,
a passion, a longing-pain.
Remember the lips
where the wind breath originated,
and let your note be clear.
Don't try to end it.
Be your note.
I'll show you how it is enough.
Go up on a roof at night
in this city of the soul.
Let everyone climb on their roofs
and sing their notes!
Sing loud!
Like a poem. A dancer, a painter, an athlete, an actor, a singer, a writer, a model, a teacher. Free to play. Symphonic imagination. Monumental thought. Writing artfully. Reflection from great perspective. Convergence of insightful visions. To shift and seek. To reach and discover. To the city connecting those who are aware and listening. To inspire wholly. To redefine and consider. To enjoy. To participate. To emerge.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
A Chandelier in the Chimney
A Wednesday evening.
An in-between the sheets-heat, thick-with grey-rain, September day.
I hear, 'No matter how far you run, you can't run away from yourself.'
To be impulsive in transaction, thoughtful in chew, considerate in exchange, and still question the direction under one's feet is an awful lot to discern on an unknown path. Or there is no path. I am already on the path-being alive, and yet. For the artist with a propensity to fall from wanderlust into a prescribed regime, education will save me. I miss the thread of learning too much to stray far from the classroom; the benevolent carriage. Teaching myself now, I am ambitious in my survival and yet. I lack a focused purpose. I am a chandelier in the chimney... of my indecision.
Dream in Walt Whitman's musings, 'Resist much, obey little'... on a budget of course. A dear friend once said, 'You don't always have to work to pay your bills, sometimes you have to not work to live your life'.
Is it an intrinsic agenda or rather a capitalistic virtue to seek and question one's purpose?
Edward Abbey is quoted saying, 'Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul'.
To smile at the crepuscular ray as if I were a sunflower shan't be enough. I am obliged to work harder by an inveterate ethic in my need to do- more. Deeply-rooted, I aim to improve and develop and learn, an innate sense to do, to be, to do, to be. Challenging and redefining what purpose means to me, I glow on the inside and slight manifestations of certainty seep outward.
In regards to fiction: 'An interpretation must be supported by evidence in the story, and this interpretation must acknowledge what parts are based on speculation rather than incontrovertible evidence'.
Daoism says, 'Knowing is seeing'.
I see, and I know.
David Hume argues, and I paraphrase, 'All knowledge comes from sensation'.
I see and I feel so I know.
What do I know?
An in-between the sheets-heat, thick-with grey-rain, September day.
I hear, 'No matter how far you run, you can't run away from yourself.'
To be impulsive in transaction, thoughtful in chew, considerate in exchange, and still question the direction under one's feet is an awful lot to discern on an unknown path. Or there is no path. I am already on the path-being alive, and yet. For the artist with a propensity to fall from wanderlust into a prescribed regime, education will save me. I miss the thread of learning too much to stray far from the classroom; the benevolent carriage. Teaching myself now, I am ambitious in my survival and yet. I lack a focused purpose. I am a chandelier in the chimney... of my indecision.
Dream in Walt Whitman's musings, 'Resist much, obey little'... on a budget of course. A dear friend once said, 'You don't always have to work to pay your bills, sometimes you have to not work to live your life'.
Is it an intrinsic agenda or rather a capitalistic virtue to seek and question one's purpose?
Edward Abbey is quoted saying, 'Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul'.
To smile at the crepuscular ray as if I were a sunflower shan't be enough. I am obliged to work harder by an inveterate ethic in my need to do- more. Deeply-rooted, I aim to improve and develop and learn, an innate sense to do, to be, to do, to be. Challenging and redefining what purpose means to me, I glow on the inside and slight manifestations of certainty seep outward.
In regards to fiction: 'An interpretation must be supported by evidence in the story, and this interpretation must acknowledge what parts are based on speculation rather than incontrovertible evidence'.
Daoism says, 'Knowing is seeing'.
I see, and I know.
David Hume argues, and I paraphrase, 'All knowledge comes from sensation'.
I see and I feel so I know.
What do I know?
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