words are like water.

 It is a funny business posting personal thoughts "publicly" to the zero people who actually read this blog. The idea behind posting to a blog instead saving "documents" on Word, is it feels somehow less robotic, less removed and more personal, albeit, if only for me. My current relationship to blogging is like a casual, noncommittal hobby. Writing only when the the mood strikes me, the act is self indulgent and secretly self gratifying. I come and go as I please. Yet, within the act, some greater good emerges. Clarity.

Clarity is like an elusive lover. When Clarity is present, the world, my thoughts, my experiences feel… well… clear. Life feels better. Music sounds better, colors seem brighter, knowing the meaning of my existence feels like it is just a reach away. But since this lover is hard to hold onto, clarity eventually leaves me for greener pastures. Or perhaps it is I who becomes distracted. Carried away with life, I lose sight of the point. The greater picture is no longer clear and translucent, palpable and understandable. Confusion, distraction, dis-ease creep over like a dark cloud obstructing the reflection of the sea, above.

 The point is, writing gives me a chance to collect myself. We call this "centering" in Buddhism. For me, it is the point of meditation. Sure there are deeper, more esoteric points in meditation, such as experiencing the void, the death of ego, Union and the dissolution of the self. But for the shallow practitioner-- the act of centering is like the practice of "returning to the breath". Writing brings me to the breath of the my mind. The thoughts that have been flowing in and out, without much awareness put onto themselves. Like focusing on the breath, writing is the simple reminder to return to the center. In this way, writing, and meditative breathing, feels astonishingly familiar, like a mother's embrace. Grounding, familiar, as if returning home from a long journey away.

I would also like to specify, the words shallow and deep often carry subjective connotations. I admit, I too use these words to convey, compare and make judgments. Above I wrote about the "shallow practitioner" but in no way I am I expressing a deficiency or shortage of meaningfulness. So in order to clarify the words for myself, I would like to invite you to imagine...

Imagine:
A shallow lake, no deeper than whatever depth instills a sense of comfort. Now, for whatever deficiency the lake has in depth it compensates for in distance. This lake is vast, it expands as far as the eye can see. Due to its lack of depth it is easily warmed by the sun, therefore a pleasure to be in, easy to enter, and fun to splash in. And since it is shallow, there is a natural clarity in it. You may even be able to see the lake floor. And since the lake is warm, and not too deep, if you wished, you could swim for miles without tiring for you know you could always stand on the bottom. This feeling of constant security can bring a great sense of confidence and trust to a swimmer. Now, the swimmer may very well swim that mile and find enjoyment in the repetitive, meditative, and nourishing practice of coordinated movement and rhythmic breathing. There is something very natural to such activity. Expansively shallow.

Now, imagine the depths of the sea. Deep down, there is darkness where the sun cannot reach. There is much less clarity for the light cannot illuminate what we wish to perceive. For any lack of perception, we may feel a sense of mystery in the unknown.  A certain curiosity stirs within. What happens in the depths-- the unknown reaches of the sea, the earth, our minds. There is fear as well. For it is cold down in the dark, depths of the sea. This is not a place to splash around and float about. For most, this depth is impenetrable, untouchable and unknowable. Furthermore, it is dangerous. Deep sea diving has its practical dangers-- the bends, panic, extreme pressure and drowning. It takes time, effort, deep determination and certain level of "technology" to travel into the depths.

One image is not better or worse than the other. Yes, perhaps you may have a preference, a gravitation towards one more than the other, but that just shows our subjectiveness. Shallowness and depth are merely different measures of natural phenomena. The words express and convey substances, objectively, but it is the human mind that decides the interpretations and therefore the connotations. Those who are comfortable in shallow bathwater differ to those who seek the mysterious, darkness of the ocean depths, merely because we are comparing the subjects. But without comparison, there is much more and much less, all at once.

https://soundcloud.com/alanwatts/philosophy-of-nature

Words are like chameleons. They are shape shifters. Words are like water, they take on the shape of their container, they can penetrate and are permeable. They can be felt, and like water, words can be manipulated: cooled heated and damed, dependent on the speaker's intention. Yet, water has a natural course as well. And so do words-- without the judgment of "good or bad", without subjective misuse,  words have carry particular existence. Words, like water, have unique expressions, unique meanings, and with enough force, they have a unique flow. Same with water. Water gives birth to the earth-- by rain, rivers, creeks and streams, water flows and restores. Giving life a chance to express itself and to enjoy its pleasures. Same with words. Yet, water can also carry destructive forces that erode beaches, tear down trees and drown life. Same with words.

≈≈≈≈ the beginning ≈≈≈≈ Art, in process. In progress.

It has been a while since I stopped blogging. A few years ago, I used this medium as a vehicle to document and record what was happening in my life. What I was reading on, what I studied in class, what I watched, and where my thoughts found revolution-- in both uses of the word.

I am a visual artist. I am a visual learner, and I am an artist. I use and express my art in a 3-D world. Art is kinesthetic, experimental, and often beyond the norm. Art is also, subtle, indirect, and mysterious. Art can be felt, touched, loved and discarded. Art is life experienced consciously.

For me, Art is about living life fully, happily, and realistically. Art in this way, is beyond the accepted version of Art that is called "art". Art is thinking outside the box; outside the boundary; outside the limits; beyond what is typically considered.

Just think of the word revolution.

What do you imagine?

Do you imagine unrest? A band of humans coming together, aimed to overthrow an establishment?
Or perhaps particles spinning around a center-- revolving.

Now imagine words with the same essence and power. Thoughts, clustering in spheres of coherence; where-in topics emerge, sentences fall in line, like soldiers commanded into battle.

The revolution of words, moves along a polar axis.
As they revolve, they can serve to train the mind-- looped and repeated over and over again for good; Repetition conditions both the mind and body. As any trainer will tell you, repletion creates familiar pathways.
As words form into thoughts, these thoughts may eventually find a need to revolt. To break the established flow and pace of revolution (of spinning) and go against the very momentum it created. This is where the effort of revolt is necessary. In order to break a habituated pattern, concentrated, precise change must be created.

Words are beautiful and descriptive. They have power to inspire and frighten. The ego, the mind, the body and spirit can all speak with words, and that is something unique. Unique, in meanings and messages are uniquely configured, yet the function is universal. Communication is an Earthly matter. Animals, plants, humans, and smaller earthly creatures all communicate. Sound travels, whereby passing along meaning through wave particles.

As I begin on one tangent, I follow through and come to a finish. This is called the beginning and the end. These moments are grounded in something-- in time, space, or imagination. Time-moments like mile markers. We remember moments of elevation, elation, dissension and descension. The moments-- the every now-moment-- woven together, have the power to be the somewhere within the beginning, middle, and end, as well as the very beginning and end in their wholeness.

It is the way we configure our lives that determines, how we relate to the now-moment, which is ever changing, shifting, dying and rebuilding.

Barbara Dilley, a modern dancer in the late 60's, 70's and 80's highlighted these time markers in her approach to performative dance. The "beginning, middle, and end" became both a theme and an approach to studio time dance as well as creating performances. The approach is very simple. You have ten minutes. The markers are very honest. Begin when the time starts and end when ten minutes have passed. But what about the middle? Does the middle begin two seconds in? Or is it at the five minute mark? Does the middle fill all the gaps within the framed time-- the time window, or does it own its own clear boundary?

These are but a few of the questions that one may consider in Contemplative Dance, an Art form and dance practice developed by Ms. Dilley herself. Contemplative Dance has a history-- an origin and a lineage. It is an approach to dancing, as well as a performative form of Art. Contemplative Dance (C.D. for short) urges the participant to take what is rightfully theirs. Time and Space. There is no need to force the production of art, because the Art is revolving in its own spectrum of revolution.

Art in this way, is righteous, from origin to expression. Art in this way, is alive and therefore relevant.   As all living things have the inevitable fate of death, Art in this way, is susceptible to the same moment-- death. But it is not always the case, and that is what is amazing. Art that is honest and real, has the power to live for thousands of years. Art has the power to flow through decades, centuries, eras, and the winds and the waves of the sea.

But Art is not always eternal. When exposed to dangers, Art can weaken, thereby becoming vulnerable to destruction and death. And that is where the ego slides in. Where the space that contemplation creates fills up with the need to survive, the ego begins to thrive. Protection is ego's agenda. The mission is to preserve the sense of a "separate-self". The "identity" of the artist, if permitted to spiral into unawareness, loses some or all of the true graces Art bestows. For the grace of true Art, is that it is focused, disciplined and aware. Art is life awareness.

to be continued….