Coincidentally a silhouette reflecting

In regards to perspective, I name myself as the observer. I am diligently aware of my outline of grace, of temperament, appearing as the greatest idea of myself and becoming it. In so much of my observation, I am attentive to those around me. How am I being received? In college, while pursuing acting, I studied many techniques of observation to heighten my sensitivity to the moment and the reaction. I am half me living the experience, and half outside of myself composing the picture in an avian-like perspective.  Partially I resist 'letting go' and for that I am aware of my lack of participating. Or am I underestimating myself? I imagine that my fear lies hidden beneath my freckles. Embodying the quality of something elegant or classic affords me the distance and a charm of cool. I am what I think, and I am what I perceive others to think, which is still my thinking. Too much. In this video I am the absence of light. A new moon. I know my shadow. The art of the negative. Perhaps I am dreaming my fears. Grounded in fantasy, I still create my reality. The power of thought released into space I create to make the way for an infinitismal vision to connect with the other to connect to myself. Am I more vulnerable? Is this quantifiable? Contentment is not outside of me. There is no 'other' in time. The conception of tomorrow saves me from owning what I fear today. The 'next time' veers my path into another spiral of ambiguity. Taking the lead, leaning on someone, creating a conversation and sharing the humanity and humility of what is, is what I aim to align with. I deem this a worthy goal. I deem this a worthy thought in process. Welcome to the reflective water of a rehearsal studio in Chelsea. I do enjoy all of the angles in the river, Blue Danube.

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?