Fighting the Malaise of Regularity

Whirling around in my mind and my heart are things that go so far beyond the malaise of regularity.

I have begun to understand, in a profound way, why many (some of them great) artists were incapable of leading “normal” lives. They fell apart or ran away from it. Because of this constant “mental distance” many artists become inept in normal life and frustrated in their creative life. Yes, the carrying out of daily obligations, domestic duties are simple enough. At times there is great pleasure and joy in these tasks. Eventually, however, I fear life may become one great “Plan” or “List” of tiny “To Dos.” And in the End, what is the contribution or positive result of having faithfully provided clean underwear and routinely dusted baseboards?

And all around, there are those pushing for conformity.

Some of us simply do not belong here in this pool of regular folk but we do the best we can to keep our heads above water. This may sound strange to most, but I think it is a sentiment shared by many creative souls.

Vespas & Smart Cars

It is surreal, when in the blink of an eye, one has been transported so far. The journey made. The journey over. But it never really is over is it.

The set up and opening in Rome was perfect. Everything went smoothly! And when confronting the unknowns of such a distant journey, I am most grateful for the beauty of all things.

I return to Italia in just a few days. Departing the sounds of lawn mowers and leaf blowers and returning to the sounds of Vespas and Smart cars. Upon one shoulder rests the guilt of leaving my family for three weeks. And upon the other, the excitement and anticipation of fulfilling my quest. I do know that I will return a much better wife, and a much better mother. Sometimes the desire to "do" something for oneself grows so large, that a slight depression and apathy sets in. It seeps in to the way we do things...or don't do things. I know it sounds difficult to imagine, but I find joy in doing laundry, cleaning house and grocery shopping, whatever the task. I find joy, because I do it for "them," my family.

But for now, for the next three weeks, I am asking them to share me with others. And for that I am deeply grateful.

The Proud, Purgatorio

Canto X .139

"piangendo parea dicer: 'Più non posso'."

"weeping he seemed to say: 'I can no more.'"

When the samskaras rise and the troubles of the world build, like the Proud of Dantes' Purgatory, the weight becomes unbearable.

Suffocation, buried... clawing to get free. I now fully understand why many creative spirits cannot live "normal" lives...for the drive & passion over this thing that dwells within - this motivation of expression - this sense of purpose beyond mere existence - is all consuming.

We are the ones who do not flow evenly in the river of daily life. In fact most people are oblivious to the fact that they are even in the river. Born in the calm pools, we flow from the stream to the brook, which seemlessly becomes the lazy river. But water is not always calm in the river and there are many tributaries to take. Along the way, some are pulled under & drown, or crash upon the rocks. Many survive but are scarred or ruined. Too few, paddle to the side to watch along the way...to attempt to gain a vantage point to see where the river leads...gain a perspective. Which tributary to navigate? Which way to the sea? ...to the end of ones' life, where we melt away into the unknown.

One must ask, what does he hope to see along this one way journey in the River of Life? Which tributaries has he chosen? Which way will he choose today? Did he find his way to the bank to watch for a while or did he simply float blindfolded and dumb?

Sometimes I Still Think He's Coming Home

The leaves are changing once more
and billowed clouds drift by endlessly.

I watch the seasons pass
I too am swept in their progress
For I am late in the autumn of my life.

For 54 years I have shared the seasons with another.

We shared sunsets of crimson and golden hues
where the clouds were so pink against the turquoise sky
it would remind one of a painting by Van Gogh.

We spent stormy nights close together
Stronger, the two of us, against nature's wrath.
And with winter's chill, we shared the warmth of our bodies,
he and I.

And every spring, as the buds unfold their fragile petals,
We too would open ourselves fresh and new to the world.
Our hearts so young despite the wrinkles in our skin.

But now I am alone.
And the greatest difficulty is overcoming habit,
for upon occassion, in a fleeting moment I am caught unaware...
And Sometimes I still think he's coming home.

In memory of my grandmother, Marguerite and grandfather, Bill.

Humanity

To hell with diversity. Bring back Humanity!

Anymore, I can't listen to the "News." I believe that our world is shaped by how we choose to see it. And the regular barrage of negative information, points of views, and constant blathering of dribble is boring. Will it ever go away? No, but I can change my point of view. Why should I continue to stare at the gutter when there is a rainbow overhead. All I need to do it to turn my head. Refocus. Refill. Refresh.

Am I denying the gutter? No. Am I abandoning my responsibility as a citizen? No. But I feel that I can best help by maintaining a positive point of view, rather than struggling in the choking pit. By bringing light into the darkness, creativity and positive effects are most often the results.

Preparing for Italy

A beautiful day was spent at the lake. Ah, decompression. My exhibition is just weeks away and I can't believe it's almost here!

Reading Dante; Purgatorio

Canto XX .146

"Nulla ignoranza mai con tanta guerrami fé desideroso di sapere."

-Never before had my ignorance caused within me such a desperate desire to know the truth.