Absurd artist

And a sea bird says something to me. I place the fruit of the earth into my body. I drink herbs from the bushes. I am that. It is me. That thou art. I am the words of Wordle. I am the ink bleeding and pleading from my pen. I am the pencil leads lying in wait. They wait for sketches and projection on to Plato‘s wall. I am Plato. I am that screen writer.

I am a man with ink; with a Chinese pen now with a wooden pen. And the inks run to lesser while I run to greater. And this page sees something of me, and the desk chatters an approving chuckle as it wiggles. Some heavier sturdier desk awaits me. And what wisdom could I possibly have?

The wisdom to know better. The wise of an animal that hunts for its own creation.

What is a hunter but a man looking for the survival of his own thoughts? What thoughts of mine have survived the drama and the torture of time? What pencil marks go on? 

What what what? 

There are marks here but what are they for? What patterns did they show? The organized ones are becoming the little book of tips for the self. Why are those coming? Should they come slowly or quickly?

Am I dying? Yes. You are. Death is here with you every day. The skull awaits.

The creation is a dance. A laughter of a wise man like an Alan Watts. It’s a giggle; all a giggle. All a giggle. 

Change. Shift. Contrast. Delta delta delta. A shifting pattern, a left turn. A surprising chuckle made by an interruption mechanism. Making all the wonder in the world. Comedians know it. I know it.

What is the drill of duality? How to go further with that. What simple process, protocol could a young person do to see that it’s not all that complicated? 

The watch is good. Death watch. The game is on. The love has started. The players are here. The cast has assembled.

What is the story or place on all of it?

Sheer determination is focused intent. It’s there in front of you. What do you intend? How do you focus on it? How to cultivate audacity.

Define audacity: A willingness to take bold risks.

And at the end of my scribblings and pen ink, I find the meaning and the message of the morning. The willingness to take bold risks. Audacity. Audacity. Audacity.

“The lack of audacity, pinched out by critical abuse or malnourishment through neglect, may cripple many artists far superior to those we publicly acclaim.” – Julia Cameron