Thursday, November 3, 2011

Marks on the Pages of Time



Often times in my mind I have conversations and say things that never really come to see the light of day. In other words I have a private personal opinion. The caution to the boy who has everything is that possessing is a false sense of security. I have in my mind the memory of the day I realized that I was not the best tree climber in the world and yes I could find myself stuck in a very scary situation high up in a tree with no one to help me down. Our opinions can climb high in the trees of the fictitious situations. Meaning we judge the past, we judge the future, and we try to change the now based upon how we think it should occur. There is no shame in trying to orchestrate your life, but in the same regard there is a shame to the individual that thinks that there motions as a orchestra conductor to life really determines its course. Even now I am asking myself to hear the music of life's orchestra and to turn over my motions of fret filled living to the Conductor who knows how the song should be played. I am grateful for the times that I keep my opinions to myself. Let right living be my legacy, and let me be so anxious to hear the Conductors Symphony.

Taking the first steps toward art. I am sitting at my kitchen counter drinking coffee and thinking about a half finished painting in my garage. I am in love with the painting, a love that I would possible describe as a fatal attraction. The reason my love for my painting is a fatal attraction is because art and the process are two different things. Doing a craft and making art are two different results. Craft is repeatable, Art in simple explanation is not. Our bodies love motion, and our bodies love accomplishment. I remember hearing a amazing story of man who recorded his entire life, all of his actions each day. The man truly did record his whole life, but in order to save time he created a style of short hand so that he could save time daily. The end result was a vast world of information that bore no true information as to the delicate way our lives play out each day. However the man, was in love with the process, the goal, the stroke of his pen upon the pages of time itself. It is not a shame to fall in love, but when we find out the rules of our attraction we can often find ourselves sheepishly embarrassed of the item loved. Mystery has such a personal wonderment to us all. The first step in art is to know that you will fall in love with it, regardless of the value that your audience has for it. Do not be ashamed of your love and do not validate it by others sight of it.

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