Dont stop!

Absence makes the heart grow fond?

The true student of life stumbles but never falls?

The real artist is not merely a professional salesman.

Embracing the many false masks and then setting them down.

Not afraid to be in the moment with what is.

Just continue let the past be past and future be future

dont worry.

What have you got to loose or gain but illusions and truths.

So I paint. I hate myself and I meditate and I love myself and the universe.

I paint and I love every breath and molecule. I meditate and feel nothing. This is not a problem.

It is a puzzle perhaps. But like a crossword I can put it down and not be beside myself.

Not torture myself for next weeks answers from some invisible mastermind. whose games I am reduced to playing.

Not do I need to claim to be the mastermind who has authored

my existence with great aplomb.

I am just going on being and adjusting my sails.

Feeling the wind.

The sun the waves and tides.

But not even just that for we sale in spirals.

we cry and rage against our thoughts and despair and petty pains and inconveniences

like feudal kings or desperados.

take bake my child like joy from the buzzards of judgement

always circling waiting for one to break down and die of heart break on the road

with their vicious I told you so's

and your not better than me.

But the fool dances on

emperors' new clothes or not

in drag but not dragging.

Not in measured steps not wildly just

naturally

unselfconsciously

aware

at ease

like a deer in the woods

unseen unheard

unknown

unbounded