False Spring

You know where you are, there's no need to broadcast in blazing logo you are literally where you expected to arrive. I just don't feel its necessary to shout in bold fonts your location, as if this was a major metropolitan center with every gleaming skyscraper insuring its corporate ownership reminding you again and again, "See Me", Remember Me", You want me, you need me, you love me, I am your normal daily requirement." Like wax paper perhaps. Like your debit card.

Indeed, I was going to change my blogging style and I have not. Well, maybe some things are better left unchanged, wouldn't you say? I'm a little tired of changes anyway. There are plenty of people thriving on change, but this depends on what you call change. Change is good, but not change that pretends it isn't change. Or change that refuses to explain itself. Change that is disguised as altruistic and is not. And especially change that comes in multiples, plural avalanches globally echoing throughout the Universe requiring the upending of the stories of previously time-tested absolutes that are daily proven to be something else, holes punched through the plasma revealing a larger, greater Universe of which we are less than nothing, could it be, are we droplets of liquid in another planet's hurricane? Until such time we actually go there we will not know. We cannot go there at the rate we are going. Surely going there is an option for other civilizations on other planets, but not this one - even though you can be sure it has been a goal of humankind since Lucy looked up and saw diamonds.

If Lucy was our ancestor, that is. After what has transpired these few months into the second decade of this century, we could if we were moved to do so, rewrite the story in its entirety. Its my understanding this is what an Apocalypse does. It unveils the truth. Visible's last few essays confirm my observations, it is no accident the speed with which events are unfurling their secret catacombs. I know we have been over 911 hundreds of times or more and yet it remains immediate. You'll want to see Rick's essay up today. And after that, you'll want to follow it with Chris Floyd's post. I found it impossible to leave comments at either blog, we've said it all already and yet, the mind will spring something on you when you least expect it so its probably more effective to wait it out than repeat a mantra. The Apocalypse will no doubt do its part as it does with the closet bubbas living in your neighborhood. There is nothing to envy there and more than enough to empathize and commiserate with. Indeed, we are all one, except for those who are not human stripmined jugglers starring on streetcams.

Our new painting in the gallery has zero to do with the general thrust of our absurd situation. This is why I paint these scenes and will continue to paint this way. Yes, I so detest what is happening to our lovely Earth, in future times it must be known once there was something decent. This is not a moral judgement, it is personal pain and this style and activity is pain relief like none other. To have seen it in all its glory, to have identified with something deep and personal in the reality that touched and stirred an unconscious Jungian chord, to work though the process of recreation with whatever flaws and foibles the days' work weaves into the scene is sheer incalculable wealth and tranquility. If for little else, for this I am grateful, for whatever else this journey is about, maybe nothing, maybe everything, it is almost enough.