Have you not already fallen in love with the images from the WEBB deep space telescope? I sure have. It is my daily dose of Zen, to gaze at the endless galaxies, the colors of the chemistry our eyes wouldn't be able to detect otherwise, and the lovely meditative music so generously shared by NASA via youtube, and whoever are those others reporting "space news". I thank them.
Here we all are, in our "local bubble" of unimaginable space, billions of light years in the making. All of my personal existential angst goes out the window of consciousness - the dust of stars looking back upon itself - and then I return to my desk, my studio, and then to my kitchen to figure out what to make for dinneer....or lunch...or breakfast...or do whatever is here at arm's length in the now. All I think I can control is within arm's reach. All of it a collaboration with my environment, my choices, my awareness regardless of limitation and bias, and I take a new found appreciation for being alive... and then...yes, what to make for dinner. This is the most truth of which I can be certain and in this truth is the beautiful.
There is gold paint on this canvas, 24 x 36. Sure, you have to look at it at the right angle with the light just so to see the metallic reflection. Ah. That's gold. Wow. And below it, a fork. The Fork of Deep Space. We eat the stuff of stars. We are the stuff of stars. All there is is the stuff of stars. Over 95% of whatever all that is is dark matter, dark energy and we haven't got a theory about any of it yet and so you bet, awesomeness ensues. We are SO lucky to be enjoying this incarnation of the mind of stars looking back at the ancient history of stars... how does a pot roast compare to all that?
Don't compare. It is almost never worth it.
My life as an artist, and indeed even all the other various careers I've persued to keep body and soul together, have been collaborations with my environment, conscious or not. My art is always a reaction, an emotional expression, a lament or a celebration and nothing is ever the same. I'm okay with that.
I wish for you all the joy and wonder to which you can open to, every day, all your life.
Read. Paint. Sing. Travel. Do no harm. Avail yourself of the colors given and the aching impossibility of trying to grasp the infinite. Beats the hell out of other news.
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