(Transcript: Written as a prelude to the painting session.)
I call upon this spring’s leaf buds to stand as emblems heralding a new era, an era of enchantment! wherein we learn how to see again with eyes more subtle than seems, more surprising than surface, more now than before. It is not sufficient to see the truth as only we have from our one perspective, for the truth not only deserves better, but is better and makes better worlds when lived inside. That is as if two artists were to draw a hand, and then call the other mad for representing it from a different angle! It is boring to be bored and to have heard and seen with neither thoughtful listens nor imaginative looks. Welcome to the World.
Let us take our time here like clay and raise the land beneath our feet into the mountain we so love. One cannot rest always in reception of the grace of good seeing, because one is not always open when resting. So there is a making. And in it the world is made better. If we choose to see our partner as us, as better, we make ourselves capable of receiving what they do have. We enhance the availability of the god or goddess, and thus work the myth into reality.
Recourse from the challenge is to lean upon our static, predictable, and comfortable selfhood. The way we understand the world when we lay back cleanly into our ego seat. And in this static seeing, our selves become stone and lose their malleability and we grow old and die all in one moment. But when does it suffice to be wedded to a stone rather than a god? A stone, a crone, a croak, married and alone! Of course it is easy to see the surface of things, but I’ll not let my partner be so simple a thing and neither should you. Not especially when we’ve got the raw skill set, willingness, desire, and authentic love to create a stronger, more meaningful experience, a plunge past the surface. Where the really good questions are asked.
This is not a call to illusion. Our words are already made up, and we already live inside of metaphors and symbols sets, so to call one version “reality” and the other “wishful thinking” is tomfoolery. And so there is a making.
A call to artists, as the call to adventure. If we are going to do anything, we had better make up our minds to do it well. So, let’s you and I insist upon exercising our mind’s eye to see Greatness through the practice of faith, empathy, and imagination. If we perceive a flaw in the other, let us then doubt the hater and not the god. Let us not try to change each other [we are both already hard at work at transcending our own demons]. (I hear your tossing in your sleep) Let us instead raise a fist to doubt rather than the other person’s character.
I trust you are sleeping well upstairs. I sat quietly for many minutes as I considered you, from the edge of our bed, and wondered at these ideas, of your croak and your god, and of my imaginative capacity to see them. Seeing has just become a new sort of verb. Seeing as a pushing forth, a loving the mountain as you walk it, a contemplative devotional and creative act, an engagement, an invocation. I would sit and write, and you would sit beside me and read, and we would speak of style and flow and timing and wording, but no — missing the point. There is a making. My king with a crown of big, bed hair would sit with his feet next to me, and I would touch his eyes with thinking. And he would see, and I would see. And he would hear, and I would hear. And together we would make something.