We want you, forever.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Henry Miller is a ghost who coaches me
I have not been involved here lately and I harbor mixed feelings about it.
It isn't that I haven't anything to push out, there is just so much coming my way lately that I need to TAKE IN.
I realize, in the past year that the fights, the causes, the revolutions can get in the way of just breathing life.
Expression has blossomed into something extremely beautiful to me; I am the art, the artist, the creator, and the creation.
My own work, and the work of nature and human expression and emotion.
A natural result of the ocean and trees, the homeless, kind stranger on the city street corner, the hostile drug addict harassing me in a sandwich shop for change, the molecules of microscopic dirt that breeze past my ear.
I walk a new beautiful city and feel ways that I have not felt, ever. I feel air that gives my face a different chill, through the new strange fog, I imagine images that couldn't have been possible in the place before this.
The surroundings are not duplicate.
The faces do not resemble.
My new found wave of simply being is extremely altered.
Some of the most beautiful things I have thought; felt, have existed only in my mind. Sometimes shared; often not.
I want to share, and I will always feel the desire to, but at this point I choose solitary thought. I want to find a way, a way I can call my way but for the moment, I just want to be lost.
It bothers me that I haven't been here, but I am always here.
Here in ways bigger than .. myself.
It isn't that I haven't anything to push out, there is just so much coming my way lately that I need to TAKE IN.
I realize, in the past year that the fights, the causes, the revolutions can get in the way of just breathing life.
Expression has blossomed into something extremely beautiful to me; I am the art, the artist, the creator, and the creation.
My own work, and the work of nature and human expression and emotion.
A natural result of the ocean and trees, the homeless, kind stranger on the city street corner, the hostile drug addict harassing me in a sandwich shop for change, the molecules of microscopic dirt that breeze past my ear.
I walk a new beautiful city and feel ways that I have not felt, ever. I feel air that gives my face a different chill, through the new strange fog, I imagine images that couldn't have been possible in the place before this.
The surroundings are not duplicate.
The faces do not resemble.
My new found wave of simply being is extremely altered.
Some of the most beautiful things I have thought; felt, have existed only in my mind. Sometimes shared; often not.
I want to share, and I will always feel the desire to, but at this point I choose solitary thought. I want to find a way, a way I can call my way but for the moment, I just want to be lost.
It bothers me that I haven't been here, but I am always here.
Here in ways bigger than .. myself.
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