i live in a very small family as a result of which, each member has a more
pronounced effect on the other members of the family.
fortunately i have been blessed with a family comprised of strong, interesting, constantly questioning, curious, creative, talented, clever people who live their lives in their own entirely unique way and each bring their own version of goodness into the world.
today is (my aunt) margaret's birthday.
margaret is my only aunt . . . and i lucked out because she was the cool aunt . . . you know, the person who dropped the important books . . . siddhartha, and steppenwolf, a book of dali prints at exactly the right time
to wake me up to the worlds beyond this world . . .
she was the person who took me to europe in the middle of my messed up teen years and made sure that i saw berlin - east and west, amsterdam, koln, and many places i had read about or heard about and which suddenly became entirely real and colourful.
margaret created a space that my own parents couldn't - through no fault of their own - that allowed me to grow beyond my own limitations.
and to be clear, i am very grateful for her existence beyond what she has provided me!
the world is a richer place for her incredible food, her kindness, her gardens, and so much more!
there's an undeniable necessity for me to form and bend and twist my outer self around each new sense of myself and somehow this body, this heart, this mind listens and feels and knows to bend and reform and i'm entirely certain that underneath its twisting convoluted bone flexed skinshape there's something other that stays constant and attached to the roiling curling sinuous form that surrounds it . . . and represents it even in this world of light and colour and cost and value and wish and need . . . . and i love this namelessness . . this otherness . . this me but not me-ness that uses my earthly form, this representation of my self as a means to an end i couldn't possibly comprehend stretched as it is across this utter and thorough faceless and timeless completeness . . . .
time and place and presence and being are tangled so entirely that for a long - a very long - moment i chose to deceive myself into believing that i could not only tell them apart but actually ignore one for the other.
the truth is . . . i cannot see one without the other . . . and they are in my own knowing . . . the first layers of understanding . . . of representing not only that we are here but why we are here . . . and so my work . . . if work it is . . . is very much in what might poetically be termed "the nascent stage" . . . . it's a beautiful, chaotic, comforting, sometimes melancholy, sometimes joyful place . . .