I have a dream for a new painting. I
have been thinking of it all week long. It is not far from any of my
surface level interest that I always express. The mysteries of my
obsessions are common market place goods for all to access. The idea
is not inside of me because I have to reinvent the world, it is only
a interest to me because I want to imagine it and dream about it. I
want to try and think about it. I feel very much in debt to the poet
Luis Borges who wrote the meditation of “dream tiger”. My debt
now tells me that there is no shame in trying to envision a tiger,
not a tiger as all see, but a tiger that exist inside my view. It is
my debt that says my dream tiger is not better than the real tiger
because the real is even farther out of grasp to me than my dream. It
is my debt that says the creation I make is not my dream tiger, nor
is it my real tiger, but regardless it fulfills a portion of its
offering to the inspiration.
I have the day off to my own pleasure.
But a servant is more valuable than a self seeking ruler. A Lion can
roar, but without his prey to tremble at the call a Lion is shorted
on his pleasure. Writing also has a audience and woe to never be
heard. The voice never used brings permanent damage upon the vocal
chords in contrast to the voice lost in screaming. The pride of man
is to be seen and to be known. How do we justify this condition, with
the curse of pride and the use of not being in use? God placed Man in
the Garden to work, and God's personal expression of His creation was
that it was good.
In writing about the condition of
expectation I find myself guilty and riddled with holes in my hull of
floating self confidences. The beginning of this diagnosis comes with
a view of the well developed symptoms. The least path of resistances
is the fastest, and we begin creatures of habit form trails both
visual-able and invisible in our lives. When faced with unmet expectation we are than in a battle with either
negotiating with or surrendering to disappointment.
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