now i look across this life under the glowing memory of days gone by hanging like a setting horizon upon an endless turning sea, austere aquamarines hanging like a kite string slightly slipping ajar from fingers uncurled gone in the wind unto an endless burning sky, orange-crimson nylon dye hanging like smoke rings always carried in the breeze, hanging like sacred smudge auspicious tiny swirls hang on the frayed ends of my clothes, little hooks hanging like pictures of a special uncle hanging like soft white coals of incense
wandering star don't let the dust fool you, it's always the view from afar that sees spectacle in your mess -- but isn't that what the beauty of life is? the perspective from here, behind a telescope lens you shimmer and dazzle sweet sprinkles the kinds that make candy of the soul glazed window into the heavens the lens is specked with colours unseen peacock flume, your wispy arms scarlet, crimson ultra violet waltz, pink pearl cotton atmosphere amid your shakeless pirouette a green only known as life what would you be on earth i cannot say only that you are what the robins and bees prefer
Today I painted these two pictures:
I wish I could show you these as bitmaps, but unfortunately WordPress won’t accept it and I don’t know how to fudge the code. Click on the pictures for a bigger view. The second one gets you out of jail free.
It’s almost half past seven and I just finished dinner. I wonder if it’s the stress and anxiety that come up when I think about my first class, but I’ve been dealing with some intense feelings the last hour. My girlfriend and I broke up in December and it’s as if my snow globe life got a good shaking. I can feel the little voices in the back of my head clear their throats as I enter my Print Futures class, the voices that try to sway my inner volition. Those same voices buzz every so often, and sometimes in the middle of the busiest day, their drone drags me like an undertow. Thankfully, I’ve had lots of support in this transition period, and had plenty of good reads and arms to hold. Part of this emotional and life adjustment involves addressing my feelings. When you can allow yourself to feel (which is hard when you don’t understand what you feel, or if you are even aware that you feel), you allow yourself to grow. Your body and subconscious are sponges that collect everything that passes through you: you are what you eat, but you are also what you think, feel, and do. To let yourself feel is to let the feeling drift in and out of your consciousness like a cloud. Even the lightest clouds become rain, but sometimes the darkest clouds produce the brightest rainbows. Life is not the black or the white or the grey or the green, etc. Life is the red and blue and yellow, the colours that birth more colour. It is the storm and it is the rainbow together. To let yourself feel is to realize you are a storm – a bunch of different clouds of potential. Storms keep the trees growing, and the night beautiful.