"The Greatest Seduction"

"it was always without pretensions of loving or being loved, although always in the hope of finding something that resembled love, but without the problems of love."   -Gabriel Garcia Marquez  (Love in the time of Cholera)

  My cell phone doesn't work here; not that I answer it very often any way.  I can hear the river rolling outside and see the wet stone walkway flowing under the glowing branches of the birch as it leads to the front door.  I can feel the presents of Stryker Peak towering over my right shoulder and unseen through house and trees.  I love this place, I love it because I feel lonely here, I feel like it should to be shared with some one; that it needs to be shared.  I like this feeling because it is such a contrast from other parts of my life. (I too find my self filling my life with mediocre love and loving.  A safe love, a distant love, a survival love.)  I also feel like reading my Bible, now that I am here, and praying to a whispering God.

Feel it!  Do you?  The muse is here, it is buried deep under the compost of the dark forest, close to the winds of the peaks.  I feel it in wet morning light and breezes of all the past lover's touches.  I don't know what it means to be an artist, I am simply me.  If envisioned from the outside I see my self as silly.  Yet I feel it in some places and others it is memory that keeps me working, memory of all that which came before, with what ever this is that feeds the monster.  What is it that inspires you?  What is it; that cause and effect that swings your Newton's Cradle?  That blows holes in the top of your head and off you stumble as your own personal disco ball!  What do you think an artist feels like before he or she does something beautiful?  I try to fill my heart with all that is given, when it is give, and to take it with me as I go.  It isn't every where, you got to take coals and keep them bright and stoke the fire when needs be.  Art is never a wast of time, there is to much ugliness in this world of man, those of us who "can" have a responsibility to bring as much  light and beauty into the world as possible.  So stoke the fire, I say!  Stoke it for the bombs that are falling and the blood that is running, for the poisons leaching into the rivers, for the mother that cries, for the addict with wasted vanes and the little children abused.  It isn't enough to talk.