Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Cave painting's

I have wondered about this blog, what to write aboot ?

The truth I guess.... revealing the real journey.

Blethered about depression so far, climbing oot and all that. Scared that mentioning big D gives a voice to the beast, invites the intruder in - so I'm careful, try to remember to give dreaming a voice too.

I think about dreaming too, that Richard Feynman wrote

'I wonder why I wonder, I wonder why I wonder why'

I think of Plato's idea of ignorance being like experiencing life as shadows cast upon the cave wall, a fraction of the greater truth, the way postcards are not the place or roses are not love .

 But magic can entwine words in sonnets or in those heartsongs that stop us in our tracks.

That dreaming is like cave painting, our brightest and best imagined on the canvas of the mind, maybe a fraction of the greater whole but pure in where it comes from. What puts feet upon ladders that climb into mist. With rich colour we imagine, the faintest of etchings, bold slurs against expectation, scared whispers like small but beautiful stitching upon the greater whole.

Not misguided dualism but the earthy, iron rich, full blooded embodied Descartes - that thought is a pulse of living, that dreams should reflect the fire, feel the heat of fire, be fierce on the walls of our chosen caves....

So new dreams force me to stand, stretch sinew, paint over old cave paintings with new brush strokes and hammer blows, see new light from from new fire. That also the cave is too small, its safety may indeed be a prison, my art a seed yes but presages growth beyond the walls. It's hard knowing that your signals are telling you it is time now to move, to act and move out into the light....


That is another story.


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