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September
24, 2008 A Common Thread
"But there's the truth, and
the truth." 
Click
on image to hear Recently I have become reacquainted with a friend from the days of our travels (10 or so years hence) through the States which landed Stefanie and I in the town of Sedona, Arizona. With my latest political interest and opinions I find it curious that one of the players in the political drama should call that place (which has remained close to my heart and is prevalent in my work) his home. Of course I wish it was Obama but it is not. It is John and Cindy McCain, who call that pocket of diverse landscapes located in the middle of Arizona their home. And considering the thread which I see running through a number of my observational and heartfelt interests, it makes a strange sort of sense. There is a twisted logic that they should have one of their many homes located in what is known to Native Americans and Spiritualists alike, as a most Sacred Place. I will start this off with a question. Is it just me or has anyone else noticed that throughout our most recent and long-term human history, it seems the scoundrels are the ones who end up on top, standing proud and righteous, on what I now see as the pyramid of shit of human misery? I mean, leaving history behind, look out at our present world and what has gone down recently, the Hollywood ending of good always triumphing over evil in the end is not reflected in the reality of daily life. And before I get labeled as just another negative Nelly for expressing the truth of what I observe, it is just lately that I in hope dare say, I have noticed an ever so subtle shift and a possibility of a course correction for humanity. One must stay optimistic but to try and live life in a false positive is just ridiculous. And here is where the conspiracy theories find fertile ground to grow and seem the only logical explanation. But before I dive into my conspiracy theory on conspiracy theories, I feel I should take a trip back to where I began, a not so short bio of first hand experience. And to add some credence to coincidence I start working on this entry on September 11, 2008, not planned just a quirk of fate. If you believe in such things. ~ 
It all began innocently enough in Alkmaar, Holland, the place of my birth. There I am in my nursery school photo, paintbrush in hand, painting what appears to be a magic mushroom. In actuality I believe the inspiration for this early work came from a kids amusement park my parents used to take me to. It consisted of large mushroom structures and gnomes and such. Kind of like Disney World I guess but not quite as garish. Despite that truth, the subject matter of that painting would prove coincidental and almost prophetic later on in my life. I guess you could say it was the first but it would not be the last of strange and unintentional happenings surrounding my art. We move on and at the age of six my family and I emigrated to Canada. I had a relatively normal childhood, with my ability to do art and draw being one of the qualities which provided me with a sense of uniqueness. All through my schooling I was the one asked to do the artwork when an artist was called for. For example, my librarian in public school had me do the display window on a weekly basis which got me out of regular classes. For that I thank Mrs. Robinson dearly, because being a normal child, I was not entirely thrilled with going to school and was basically (art being the exception) an average student. Mrs. Robinson helped to channel my talents in a positive direction but that would not always be the case. An example of this is when, for a Halloween prank, I came up with the idea to create and hang an effigy of our principal in the tree in front of the school. He was a hard case. Once when I was not paying attention in gym class, he hit me in the face full force with a basketball bringing tears to my eyes. I had the effigy all put together at home, ready to go and waiting for Halloween, when my friends decided that they wanted to do another of a more sensitive teacher. Our music teacher was the one they wanted to pick on. I had my reservations but I went along with the crowd and helped to make it, and we hung it a few days before Halloween. The next day at school the shit came down. In a way, I still carry guilt for that childish prank played on a teacher who, following that episode, I believe never taught again and did not deserve it. For I never saw him again. It wasn't long until the principal came to our class and rounded us up. He knew exactly who had done it. You see, in my youth I hung around with a questionable bunch and this trend would not end in my public school days. We were all brought to the office and I was singled out by these words, "And you Mr. Boots did the artwork. Didn't you?!" I along with my cohorts got suspended from school. But that was not the worst of it. Now I was going to have to face my mother who surprisingly enough had been fully aware of the principal effigy and was ready to allow me to do that. My mother with good cause flipped out and the effigy of Mr. Moffat my principal, which I had worked so hard on was destroyed. I go into that with some detail because the instigator and leader of our gang was coincidentally the librarian's son. I had a bad feeling when the second effigy was suggested, I should have followed my heart and knowing. Live and learn, I suppose. Moving on to high school, meeting new friends but continuing the anarchistic trend, my new friends would also be societal refugees. This is when the prophetic nature of that mushroom painting would come into play. This is the start of my drug days. I wish I could at least say that it started through experimentation with the desire to reach higher forms of consciousness, but that would be lying. It all came down to partying, plain and simple. With the so-called war on drugs and all, I hesitate to share here the extent of my drug use but in all honesty, if I could do it all over again I would not have done anything different. I know it's a clichι but that's the truth. Let's see what have I done. Well... it all started with pot of course. As they say, the gateway drug. Who "they" are I don't truly know but I don't really believe that logic. Regardless of my opinion on that, I've tried LSD, Magic Mushrooms, Cocaine, PCP, THC in pill form (at least I think it was THC), Hashish, Oils of various derivations, Beer and various hard liquors (for those who think these don't belong on this list, wrong) and MDA but the one thing I never did was stick a needle in my arm. Some of my friends would prove not to be so wise. More on my friends and heroin use later but I will continue this trip down memory lane with one specific night where a good friend named Storksy (who has since passed) came up to me and said, "Open your mouth". He put an unknown substance in my mouth and said, "Swallow it". What he gave me was MDA or as some call it, the love drug. And that night while at the local Oktoberfest, totally out of my element and age group, I fell in love with everyone. It was truly magical and I touched levels of consciousness that until then I had only heard about in song. But of course we weren't allowed to stay, the drug wore off and the next day as I hitched my way back home I got a ride to a place I wasn't expecting to go. It turned out this father and son were on their way to Church (I believe it was the Church of Latter Day Saints) and he asked if I wanted to go with them. Having now come off the love high of the night before I nevertheless said, "Sure. Why not?" It was all very strange, I was raised Catholic and emotionally the vibe was very different in this place where Christ went by his first name. I stuck it out and on the way home the father began his inevitable proselytitic diatribe of how I should accept Jesus as my only true Lord and Savior. I wasn't buying it and when I could get a word in edgewise I said to him, "Have you ever heard of John Lennon?" To which his young son in back replied, with some gusto, "Yah I have!" I think around there the conversation ended and the father dropped me off at home. Are you still with me? Well if you are let's move on. Along with drug use, I listened to music. Music along with my art is what sustained me and my mental health. I listened to a lot of different types of modern music, ranging from The Sex Pistols to the Supremes and everything in between. Some of my favorites of those days included Lennon, Led Zeppelin, Iggy Pop, Bowie, T-Rex, The The and The Waterboys just to name a few but one band that became instrumental in my (as of yet unknown movement towards a future awakening) was The Moody Blues. Now how I came to listening to The Moody Blues, and along with them, Cat Stevens, is a story in itself. These albums were left to me by my sister. My Sister's Story. One of my other dear friends who has since passed, also loved The Moody Blues. So we listened. And while we listened, a slow but definite change began to take hold within me. I didn't even know it myself. I thought it was all just nice poetry put to music but it wasn't, considering the door it led me to. For some time my brother John and I had run our own art shop called, Artistic Images, where we did commissions and such. But listening to Lennon and the rest of them, I was beginning to come to the realization that art played a bigger part in our society than simply creating pretty pictures for money. It had purpose beyond that. How much beyond? I wasn't aware of that at the time. I was skirting political and societal ramifications with drawings such as "Waste (An Artist's Conception)" which dealt with the stupidity of war and nuclear blow away annihilation. My next attempt at pure personal expression would prove to take me beyond the surface of what was going on. Not only on the outside but also within me. This drawing I titled, "The Escape Artist".  Arden Kelly
'Fish' Myers The Escape Artist came directly out of personal experience. During one of many nights spent sticking god knows what up my nose and watching as another close friend violently brought in yet another case of beer, I had had enough. I went home and came up with the concept and the rough mental outline of probably the most important personal piece I have done. I included within the piece the words from the poem which bookends The Moody Blues concept album A Question of Balance. And for the central figure, I used my friend Arden as a model, primarily due to his ability in distorting his face in a violent grimace. This too would prove to be prophetic in nature, for in his attempts to escape the pains of human existence, he would take drug and alcohol abuse to the max, not being satisfied until he became addicted to heroin. It was he and I who shared our love for The Moody Blues and it has now been almost four years since I helped return his body to the earth. That being what it is, a sad story, I shall move on in a more positive and hopeful direction. During work on this piece, a woman whom my brother was dating had noticed the change in me. And one day while I got a ride home with her, she asked me a simple question which held profound implications for the future direction of my life's course. She said and then asked. "I've noticed a change in you. Do you want to hear a lecture album by a psychologist and Harvard professor who experimented with LSD in the sixties?" Having been a recreational user myself, I replied, "Sure, why not?" I'm off to church again. That is how I stumbled across and became acquainted with Richard Alpert who later in his life became known as Ram Dass. I listened and like a ton of bricks the Universe came down falling into place like a long lost puzzle I had been working on for what seemed like an eternity. All the music, which until then was merely nice poetry, took on new meaning. There are no words to describe when something like that happens to you. Suffice it to say, I left the house after listening to Be Here Now higher than I had ever reached using any kind of artificial or natural stimulant. When I got in the car, the radio was on and out of the speakers came April Wine singing, "I've been living my life on the dark side of the moon." Wow. Synchronicity. Not the first, nor the last. The first thing you want to do when you experience a life altering event like that is share it with your friends. It was not long until I realized it's all a matter of perspective and I had been offered one which my friends did not share. They looked at me like I had joined some kind of cult. And maybe they had a point, I did start walking barefoot everywhere, but there was no way I was going to deny my moment of truth. I had been searching for what to express through my art and I had found it. You want me to give that up? And for what? A beer? Now... although I did become an aficionado of Ram Dass and searched out anything and everything he had ever produced (books, tapes, whatever) I did not become a devotee. I may have stopped eating meat (and considering how the meat industry is today, I am grateful for that) but for the most part, I just wanted to stay in that place, space or whatever you want to call it. I left the business with my brother and moved to the city, Toronto. My friend Arden also moved there and found God in heroin while I found it in watching the guy who swept the street. We walked different paths but all paths come to the same end. He would later free himself of heroin addiction but it would prove to be too late. Upon his death bed he asked me how he could escape his broken body. I didn't have any answers for him, but to say, "Just let go of it." To which he replied, "How?" I had no answer for him. I wish I had been in a more conscious space during that day but I wasn't. ~ "Some
say the view is crazy Black Country Rock by David Bowie ~ As mentioned, I did not go to India and join an ashram or some group kissing the feet of a guru. Not that I think that option is not open to whomever wants to do it. It was just not for me. I did read some other books on spiritual matters such as Castaneda, Seth and the like but it all just led me back to the basic teachings which Ram Dass provided. His basic message was and is, love and serve people. He had simply given me the keys to a car I did not know I was driving, leaving me free to drive and learn the rules of the road on my own. There was one thing I did experiment with and that was meditation. Not a meditation with any deviational connection but a simple method of controlling the mind. This method involves focusing all thought on the breath. With every inhalation, you think rising, with every exhalation, you think falling and all other thoughts, you let drift away with no attachment. The beauty of this method is in its pure simplicity. To set the minds attention on something we do unconsciously from the moment we are born to the day we die. It is something anyone can do, rich or poor. In fact, if you are poor and content, you have an advantage. Imagine that. One day, I decided I would try it in the basement bathroom bath of the house I stayed at in Toronto. When you turned the lights off in that room, all went black. Not a speck of light came in through any crack. I turned the lights off and got into the bath. After an initial moment of fright I settled down in the tub and told myself to be frightened is just silly, it's not like the room changed, it was just dark. In the tub I proceeded to perform the meditation of watching the breath while thinking only rising and falling. A rhythm began to ensue and before my opened eyes waves of scattered light took circular form and began to rush towards me in ever increasing speed and intensity. Rising, falling, rising, falling... and I reached a point where an intense wave of energy swept through my body from head to toe leaving chills in its wake and the room became filled with light. Then I thought, wow! And with that thought, I lost my concentration and it all went black again. But it didn't matter, something had happened that made the belief in other places than this physical reality, real. But don't take my word for it. That surge of light I experienced, is the doorway in The Escape Artist. It is also the doorway within the other worldly being in Harmonious Convergence and Mandala. That's what it was about, a change of direction and perception, looking inward without judgment and leaving the view outside to rest for a moment. As I reflect on that vision, I wonder... what was it in me which allowed me to focus my thoughts in a way that turned darkness to light? My only conclusion is that, unknowingly I had been doing it all along in the way I approach my work. I had trained my brain to focus on the sharpest end of the pencil. And there are a myriad of methods in our world which offer us the opportunity to focus inward and see beyond the veil. It was just a moment and a personally profound one at that. I never made another attempt at meditating to that degree. Because what was important to me now, was to share this experience and knowing through my work. It was enough to know that door was there and I thought that the door we are all looking for and will inevitably go through in the end was something others would want to hear about. Little did I know at the time, fear is a powerful force upon our planet and most people in our world see death or the focus on it, as morbid and a subject to be avoided at all costs until it comes knocking. And so it is. ~ Regardless, I had found my purpose and the reason why I had this ability to express through art. The next piece was the as yet, untitled, Harmonious Convergence. It too would have its quirks of fate and coincidental timing throughout its production. I have written on this and other qualities of its production on the Harmonious preview page in this site but will add it here again to add a sense of continuity to this journal entry. Generally, the drawing progressed by simply adding people who had left an impression upon my life. Over a three year span, slowly it evolved through a perspective of depth as one person was added behind another. One of these figures was The Statue of Liberty. I included it not so much for what it is known to represent to the American people but more for the spiritual meaning it held for me personally. Liberty, freedom, not the accepted surface aspect of that human quality but the deeper one of, "Free at last. Thank God I'm Free at last.", which graces the tombstone of Martin Luther King. The quirk occurred when I was working on the flame and over the radio my music was interrupted by a news bulletin and a tragic effect was announced. The space shuttle Challenger had exploded. Wow, and with that I thought... that's weird. Of all the things I could have been working on or doing in that moment it was drawing the flame of The Statue of Liberty. That in itself is strange but this quirk does not end there. To honor the space men and women who found the ultimate freedom while pushing the limits of human fearlessness on that fateful day, I included the date on the torch and put a tear in Liberty's left eye. Some years later, while restoration work was done on The Statue of Liberty there was one spot where no matter what they did noting could be done about a perpetual stain caused by water run off. Below her left eye is a permanent water mark which uncannily resembles that of a tear streak. Okay... weirder still but the coincidental occurrences would not end there with this, as yet untitled drawing. As I had mentioned, it took me three years to finish this drawing. In that time I could have finished it on any day. But I didn't. No... the day I finished it was on August 16th, 1987. Some may wonder, "So what? What's so special about that day?. Well, not only was it the 10th anniversary commemorating the death of the King of Rock and Roll, but it was also a day when scattered across the globe, people gathered in prayer in a conscious effort to change the course of humanity in a positive direction. And one of the reasons this day was chosen for that worldwide event was because the planets were lined up in a way resembling the Star of David. Oh... and by the way, others in the world may have been conscious of this event but little old me, living in seclusion in a small Southern Ontario town called Pontypool, was not. I heard about the event the day after I had added the last character (Robin Williams) completing a drawing which took three years and could have been finished on any one of those days. Along with that, the intent of the drawing fell in line with what those people were attempting to do. The event was called "The Harmonic Convergence" and the as yet untitled piece had its title, Harmonious Convergence. ~ I go into some detail with this "coincidental bio" because I feel the need to show that I have not come to my understandings and place in the world of today though something I read second hand by someone I don't personally know. These strange events are first hand experiences. Unusual as they may be, they happened and I speak the truth. The house is on fire and I am not trying to sell you anything through a slyly motivated sales event. Or if I can borrow a term from my friend Joseph in Sedona, I am not a "real esnake" agent. If money was my motivation I would not be writing this pro bono or do the work I do. I'm living the dream or the nightmare depending on perspective. Having said that, sure I would appreciate a donation or two to continue to do work which I feel (taking into account our cynical and growingly apathetic human nature) is of ever-increasing importance. It's not just ego, I care. I have a daughter who's future is becoming with every passing denial of truth (spiritual and physical) increasingly uncertain by everyday we waste on frivolity, nonsense and bullshit excuses. ~
"There's something happening here
By Buffalo Springfield ~ I feel a sense of urgency. Not urgency motivated by fear but by a need for us to do something, anything. Even if it is just to tell and share our stories honestly and with an open heart. And so I will continue... With Harmonious I pay homage to some of those who opened my eyes and heart to the possibility of creating change. There's Gandhi, who's life was an inspiration to not only me but to people like Martin Luther King. I drew him (in actuality Ben Kingsley in the movie version of Gandhi's life) during one of his fasting periods, because through such a simple act of choosing not to eat, he stopped a nation bent on violence and killing each other. I'd like to see one of our present day leaders try to attempt such a stunt and achieve those results. Of course, it didn't last and he may have felt he failed to bring his country together in the end but if he only knew how far his influence would travel through time and space, he might have died satisfied. And of course, I had to include the civil rights movement of the sixties as represented by Martin Luther King making his famous speech. It is no accident that I placed him next to the lady who weeps for freedom to this very day. But one nation which I have always regretted I did not include, was the Original Peoples of this continent I share with my US cousins. 
Crazy
Horse
Sculpture Black Hills The story of the Native Americans and their fight to hold onto what they felt was true, strikes a chord deep within me. Not to the extent of dying for a cause or watching your brother, sister and child be slaughtered, but I do find a common ground in their experience. I live in this place built on top of the blood and bones of those who were here before us. And before someone accuses me of naivety, I realize it was not all love, light and peace before the white man came to North America. They were a human nation of tribes who had their squabbles and yet I believe there was one element to which they all held common respect. That shared ground, was the reference they held as a nation of tribes for the earth we inhabit. Looking around the world today I wish the conquerors of this continent had recognized fully the relevance of that truth before they rubbed out a people who were simply of a different hue. We don't all have to be Christians, of this I am sure Christ would agree.  Crazy
Horse
Sculpture Black Hills So yes along with East Indian influence my view of life has been colored through the history and vision of North America's red nation. Part of that predisposition is in how I see through their experience what's right is often colored wrong, and justice for the most part is denied to those who deserve it most. What does it mean to them to have their sacred mountains carved up in the shape of their subjugators? Where is the justice in that? Thank God for that Polack** (a term of endearment not meant as derogatory to the Polish nation in any way what so ever) who decided it would be a good idea to balance that insult out by carving Crazy Horse out of another Black Hill. That said, why does the human failing of disrespect for each other continue to this day? Look at Iraq of today. What's the difference? ~
"Welcome to my country
In the Blood by Robbie
Robertson ~ I will return to the Native influence on my life later but for now I'll return to my own story. I have now lived for the most part as a monk outside the small town of Pontypool Ontario. After approximately seven years of relative seclusion, short of a few acquaintances, my life was more or less one of celibacy, spiritual practice and art. Although the spiritual and artistic aspects were well imbedded in my being, I knew that a monk's life of celibacy was not for me. I needed a partner. And with my only steady partner being my dog London, I hoped and prayed to meet that one. Having lived alone for so long, I believe those who knew of my existence were beginning to wonder if perhaps I was of the gay persuasion. A persuasion I accept as real and not just imagined but to which I do not belong, except through our common humanity. As far as my work, I produced Self-Portrait (with an unfillable Whole), In the Medieval Fire, Dreamer and began work on a large acrylic on masonite. I had also done a commissioned portrait of some significance (as far as those strange occurrences) titled, Mind Heart and Soul, for a woman named Jill Christie. In actuality, I had produced it while I lived in Toronto but the full consequence of this drawing would not be felt until the woman who was my friend and patron was killed in a car accident not ten minutes from where I lived in Pontypool. For more on that story go to this journal entry "Frying Fish and the Story of Jill Christie". Needless to say, with death involved, it was a sad story but the full extent of the story's implications ended with a little hope for us all. So I was on the prowl for a mate. While I pursued that elusive desire fulfillment I did the local show circuit meeting with inconsistent success at best. One time I thought I would take the show further down the road to Florida and almost lost everything I had produced to that date including Harmonious Convergence. You can read about that adventure in this entry, complete with pictures "Shows, Fires and Robots". Despite the seemingly unending perpetual disappointments in having my work be supported through the free market economy, I pressed on. I wonder these days, was it a Bush style evangelical stubbornness, or was it just that I pushed against the status quo in need of readjustment? Regardless, I kept going. Then came a day when I had to make a choice. I was accepted into two shows on the same weekend. One in Kingston Ontario, the other in Niagara Falls. My dog had died and I was tired of living alone and since Kingston is a college town, I thought I would go there in the hopes of killing two birds with one stone. Why not? But I thought maybe I could use some help and asked a friend (the model for Dreamer) if she would like to come with me. She was a friend with benefits, before that term became popular. And like I've said, I had had enough of being alone and was ready to settle, if she wanted to. Besides, the whole concept of soul mates and waiting for "the one" was beginning to wear thin. You know, maybe its like the song says, "the love you make is equal to the love you take", but then, I never did like Paul McCartney's work. It was John and Yoko's union I admired and respected. I tried to contact my friend Marie to come with me to my show but I could not reach her, so I loaded up and headed off to Kingston on my own. While setting up my booth I noticed a beautiful girl checking in at the vendors booth. During the day of the show she appeared again in my booth and asked, "You do airbrushing? Could you teach me?" To which I replied, "Sure." Then she spied my pack of Drum tobacco and asked if she could roll one. "Yes of course, go ahead." And following that, after I bought one of her t-shirts she was selling, she walked off pushing her cart of wears. Wow, I thought to myself, feels like something is happening here. Who is this girl? Later that night the show had ended and as I browsed a street side booth looking at yin yang rings, I turned around to find her standing behind me. Along with a couple of other vendors, we went for Mexican food and shared in conversation. Then we all went to the lake side and smoked cigarettes and had some tokes, as we watched the moon reflect it's light our way. I was falling in love and as it turned out I was not the only one. I was looking for my lighter for most of time there and it wasn't until we left that it was found, Stefanie had been sitting on it. I have been looking for my lighter ever since and I have never taught her how to airbrush. I had found the one. I couldn't believe it. I had given up. I guess sometimes it's a good thing to do, when there is nothing else left to do. Give up. Let go. Make a space for the Universe to fill. What would have happened if I had been able to reach my friend Marie? I might not have met Stefanie at all. Most definitely if we had met it would have been a different story, quite possibly with another ending. For when I got back home Marie came to visit me. I told her I had met the one I was looking for. I had always been honest with Marie but despite the fact that I was, and she knew, head over heels in love, she cast a sexual vibe my way so strong that for a moment Stefanie completely disappeared from my mind and I was tempted and felt fully justified to once again taste the benefits Marie offered. Imagine that. Some people may consider sex outside of a relationship kosher but I'm not that way, never have been and believe in monogamy. This experience would give me understanding and empathy of unforeseen events which would soon come to pass. The first movie we watched together, we watched by cueing it up while in separate locations. She at her parent's and I at my house. It was the Princess Bride, which reflected our story complete with Humperdink, The Fire Swamp and all its romantic pit falls including R.O.U.Ses (rodents of unusual size). You see, our meeting did not come without its complications. She had a boyfriend whom she wanted to get away from and he was not one to be taken lightly or be underestimated in his volatile nature. It got to the point where lives and property were threatened, so all that was left to do, was for Stefanie to come live with me. I thought we would be safe from predators. I was wrong. Long before Stefanie came, I had unknowingly surrounded myself with them. Inspired, I produced three new drawings of Stefanie within a relatively short span of time. The first a portrait titled Myn Licht (My Light) which I gave to her parents. The other two were titled, Light and Shadow. It would be later, after we were forced to move form my (now our) home of ten years before I finished Shadowplay, a compliment to Light and Shadow. But before that piece was done our romantic comedy would teeter on tragedy. All this within the span of not more than three years. I had begun work on two ideas at once. One forebodingly titled, "Truth", the other equally as ominously titled, "The Art of Deception". I don't want to go into detail with this painful episode of my life but I feel the need to delve into it in some semblance of depth because it brings to light how views of truth can be perverted. After all, that is what this particular journal entry is about. How the scoundrels appear to walk in justice while the true victim is cast the blame. The storybook start to our relationship was about to take an unexpected but if I had had my eyes open, foreseen turn. As it turned out the sketches I was producing for future paintings were prophetic and somewhere deep inside, I was trying to tell myself something. Along with that, I had been using a spiritual tool known as the tarot. The particular cards I was using was the Medicine Card deck, loosely based on Native animal spiritual characteristics. And what came up time and time again was the Owl card which basically said, deception was in the air. Those two sketches never fully materialized into finished works of art so here is a brief description. Truth consisted of a beach tree truck overlaid with Stefanie looking away. Coming out the earth I placed myself overlaid by the roots reaching up towards the love of my life. Now why would I produce something like that? At the time, it seemed odd even to me. The Art of Deception was not so ambiguous in what it represented. It consisted of the inside of the National Gallery of Canada with my hands being tied down, not unlike the scene of the little people tying Gulliver down in Gulliver's Travels. The National Gallery has a large glass foyer and looking in from the outside in, was the large head of an owl. With this sketch, I feel the title itself was the message I should have been paying attention to. But I felt trust in the people closest to me. 
Pontypool Going up. There were more characters directly and indirectly involved in this drama which was about to unfold. But to go get into all the details of all the players involved would fill a novel. I don't have time for that here. One thing I will mention is, I believe that a form of ego driven black magic was at play. But lucky enough for me, there was another force countering attempts at deviously subtle outside manipulation. You see I felt a strong desire to take a break on the herb, which at the time we smoked on a regular basis. When used in that fashion, marijuana becomes like a natural form of Prozac creating a haze over reality. This allows one to go through life without having to face or deal with issues outside or in. I know this to be true, for at that time I had given it up and in doing so, I felt a resurgence of my spirit returning. It was not unlike that first time when the Universe felt it was time to drop that load of bricks on my head causing my initial awakening. I hesitate to lay the truth on the line here. My main reason is I do not want anyone to think any less of Stefanie than she deserves. I loved her then and I love her even more now. So anyone reading this who would cast judgment, you do so at your own detriment. So as they say, lets cut to the chase. Stefanie had something to tell me. It was a warriors task and like the brave warrior she is, she spit it out not knowing what my reaction would be. She had been having an affair with who I thought was my closest friend. ~ "You
made a fool Love Anyway from Still Burning by Mike Scott (Waterboys) ~ First of all, this news was so far out of left field, I couldn't believe it. Second of all as I have said, my spirit was returning and with it objectivity. I was in an objective space free of attachments to my emotions, not a bad place to be, when shit hits the fan. The first thing I did when she told me was thank her for the truth and secondly, I embraced her. Not the expected reaction but definitely the appropriate one. When it comes to speaking truth, it should never be rewarded with anything less than absolute love and understanding. But again, don't take my word for it. If gifted the opportunity, try it and see for yourself. So that's that and our storybook love had turned a page. Like as so often happens in most relationships, the initial excitement of meeting the one you have been waiting for has a habit of falling into routine. I believe it happens with everyone and most people these days when they come to that impasse, take the route where common paths depart. We almost fell into that trap but through eventual truth and understanding we made the decision to push through. I do have to say this though, it must have been pretty trippy for Stefanie, knowing what she knew, to watch me produce those sketches and hear the titles I had given them. I would guess the fact of those insightful images being part of the story also added to my unusual reaction. It was confirmation of life beyond our petty drama filled lives, a conscious unconscious. Oh... and I have forgotten to mention the fact that at that time, not only was I pulling the card but I had been seeing owls in the middle of the day in the most unlikely of places, and that "close friend" had given me an owl house to put up. With all that proof of truth reveled how could I be angry with anyone? It would be like kicking somebody for giving me the gift of eternity. Despite attempts to stay within our place to which this "friend" was also the landlord, it was time for Stef and I to go. In my moment of clarity, I knew what to do and where to go. As with the sketches, there were indicators as to where to go and all things considered, I was not about to negate any hints of direction I might receive. Sadly but not unexpectedly, our family and friends would not see it that way. It was all clear to me but boy can the truth be twisted. In this world seemingly ruled by ego, outside perspectives abound. Despite the fact that I had been the victim in this drama, what was reflected back to me from outside sources, one would have thought I was the instigator. From family to my brother's wife (a former girlfriend of mine my bro thought would be a good candidate for marriage) they said in confidence to Stef, that she should leave me. And somehow the judgment was, that I was crazy. You would have thought it was I who fucked around. I had and have never felt so alone in my life. Through that drama, it was like the facade of what I hoped was true was ripped away, leaving me to see the malevolent underbelly of what those I thought closest to me truly thought of me. Good thing I had found my soul again, for I and our relationship would not have survived otherwise. There was nothing left for me in Ontario. I gave Stefanie the option, but regardless of her choice, I was going to Arizona. ~ "I
can't let go of the painted desert In the Blood by Robbie Robertson ~ This new stance (which would later manifest through oil as Stand!) of mine would be perceived from outside myself as "contemptuous, irresponsible, egocentric, arrogant, angry"... Out of all those false assumptions of my character one was correct, I was angry. Surprisingly enough not with Stef, but with all those who interpreted our personal drama in whatever way they could, to justify their predisposed suppositions of who I am. Sound familiar? You would have thought I was a black man running for president. I love it when people have the gall to say they are not into politics like, they are above it. I got news for y'all, it's all politics. And if you think different you have your head up your ass. Politics, fear, anger and all those perceived lower human traits that so called "spiritually enlightened" people like to think they are above or should pretend away, life is not that cheap. One can not live fully, in pretence. I am human and sometimes I feel fear, regret, guilt and anger. I also have an identify beyond those human frailties. But I prefer to look at it all... this way. Take anger for instance. I see it as a tool to be used when needed. I have a drill, when I need to make a precise hole in something I use my drill, not my hammer. When I have no need for it, I put it back in its case. I don't just throw it away, because it might come in handy when I need to drill another hole. Practical enough. The same goes for anger, there are times when it is the best tool for the job. It is almost as if some people think so called negative human emotions are to be destroyed in order to be more spiritual. As far as I can tell, the ladder of consciousness goes up and down and how impractical would it be to climb that ladder swearing never to come down ever again. Again, a tool to use when one needs to reach something high. To try and stay on top is not only impractical but also unnecessary and generally just leads to ego supported spiritual falsities where you are just left looking down, on everyone else perceived as below you. As far as I'm concerned, Johnny Rotten had it right, "Anger is an energy." That's all, nothing more nothing less. ~ In moving on with the story, where did I leave Pate and Stefanie? Oh yeah, Stefanie needed to make a choice. She chose to come with me. We left the apartment we had shared for the past three years and put a down payment on a blue 4runner. The Blue Pony (as it would latter be dubbed) took us, plus the dog and cat, cross country until we landed in Sedona Arizona. The storybook honeymoon of our relationship was over and now the work would begin. For anyone who needs to test a relationship in order to see if it is viable, move into a small space with a cat and dog on a shoestring, while trying to make money as you go. Since I am able to write this from our home in Apsley, I guess we passed the test. But again, not without its up and downs. 
Boynton Canyon Sedona One particular moment in Boynton Canyon is etched forever in my memory. We had just arrived in Sedona, we did not know anyone there, we were living out of our truck, it was raining, I believe Indigo the cat had already been killed by a coyote, we were miserable, hungry, tired and ready to kill each other. Oh... whatever happened to the time when I felt my soul shine forth in glorious rays of enlightened dreams of prosperity? Was it all a mistake? Was it just an illusion? Despite the rain and red mud, I pulled myself out of the truck to make something to eat on our one burner Coleman stove. I figured food would be a good start to changing the mood. While making instant pancakes huddled under a desert cedar, Stef managed to pull herself out of the truck and as I looked down avoiding her eyes, I saw that I had set up next to a big pile of coyote shit. Or if you prefer, trickster dookie. In an instant the mood broke and we were both laughing. We had reached the limits of self pity and there was nothing else left to do. Gotta love those coyotes, four legged and two. It wasn't all like that and shortly after that day we met people who gave us shelter, showers and even a bed to sleep in. I would like to share more of this adventure and the stories of these generous people we met but again it would fill a novel. But in keeping in line with the nature of this entry, there are a couple of stories I must share of our Sedona escapades. 
Camping around the town of Sedona was still tolerated by the authorities in those days. From what I hear now, that is no longer a transient's option. Basically, the rocks I so loved to climb and explore are off limits to the ones who respect them most. When we were there, that trend had already begun. Once again the people are cut off from connecting to the sacred, falling in line with the way I see the world heading. You have to keep those pilgrims away from those spiritual places and the Dalai Lama is no longer allowed in Tibet. Makes one wonder. Is there a wider conspiracy? So Sedona has been bought and sold and sold again by the real esnake agents. While we're at it, why don't we corral and kill those pesky Indians. Oh yeah... did that already. Anyway... before I get bummed out about it, when we were there it was still possible to camp, as long as you stayed one step ahead of the rangers. It was a challenge and on more than one occasion, John the ranger caught us going over our limit and kicked us out of the forest. But there was one night when we were fully in our right to be there. It was in a place called Secret Canyon. I think these kinds of events stand a greater chance of occurrence when the odds are heightened, through time spent living under the stars. The night sky in Sedona is a busy space but Stefanie was bound and determined to identify herself a UFO. Most nights I would be left shaking my head when Stef would look to the heavens pointing at a plane, asking me, "What is that?" "It's a plane." Then came the night at Secret Canyon. I looked over at Stefanie and she was pointing directly over our heads with a look on her face I had not seen before. She asked me the question again and as I looked up, this is what I saw. Directly above us at about the height of a plane on approach, was something I had never seen before or again. It was massive, silent and slow moving. At the size of it and the speed it was going, it should have fallen out of the sky. Triangular in shape with lights running along the front edges, we watched as it moved slow and silent over the town of Sedona, finally disappearing over the rocks of Schnebly Hill. Also, there appeared to be a smaller aircraft or two moving along with it, which could have been jets. At least that is what Stefanie saw. Myself, I was mesmerized as this thing blocked out the heavens and blew my mind. What was it? I don't know but it was most definitely an unidentified flying object. But don't take my word for it, then again, there were two of us who saw the same thing. And it was also around that time, when similar sightings were reported and recorded over Phoenix. If nothing more, I'm afraid its just additional fodder for the conspiracy enthusiasts. This is my problem with people who put forth conspiracy theories on a galactic scale. When I hear that our world and the powers that run it are controlled through some galactic war waged by aliens, complete with names of races, planets and individuals, you lose me. My mind shuts down. This happens despite the fact that I pride myself on having an open mind. If one should get anything out of this journal entry, it is that fact. Prevalent in this writing are numerous events that prove this to be true. I've seen what appeared to be a space ship but I am not going to jump to any unsubstantiated conclusions because someone has a web site or has written a book. As an old friend of mine was fond of saying, "Paper does not refuse ink." Or in our more enlightened computer age, "The computer screen does not refuse pixel manipulation by keystrokes." One other problem I have with these theories is in the after effect. Conspiracy theorists like David Icke and the like, seem to create a world where all that is left is hopelessness. If it is all beyond our control and run by some secret government, why bother at all? We will never change things as they are. So I spread the word for them? What does it do? Apathise us humans living on this planet. If I was to believe in them, I would have to relinquish all hope, leaving myself powerless to change my world. I am not ready to give up on that, even if it is just a dream. Anything that inspires apathy should be held suspect. And besides all that, how do they know Galactic Supreme Commander Zurg by his first name? I mean... I like Jean-Luc Picard but I know he is really Patrick Stewart. Meaning... truth can be found in fiction and the human mind is imagination's fertile playground. More on that later, for now I feel the need to share the story of my newest painting. While traveling back and forth to and from Sedona I did mange to produce some work. There were a couple of small drawings of Stefanie, In Search of the Stone People and Indigo (of which I have no pictures). I also produced an oil painting Reunion (Bridging Reality) where both subjects are representatives of self. Reunion began in Ontario and was finished in Sedona. But there was one idea which came forth out of that venture which ten years later, I am still working on. It has a title but I am not interested in sharing that at the moment. It began innocently enough by taking photo's of a rock formation near our favorite camping location. A place where John the ranger did not go. In this rock, I saw a doorway and along with the Anasazi legend of an ancient people of the South West who vanished without definitive explanation, I got an idea for a painting. 
TV captures of X-Files episode.
During that time Stefanie and I were dedicated fans of the television show the X-Files. You may have heard of it? David Duchovny, Mulder, Scully, The Cigarette Smoking dude, aliens, conspiracies, Lone Gun Men... If you have no idea, bear with me here. During our travels of which six or so months was the limit we could stay in the States, there were times when we were in Ontario and we would catch up on our favorite program. The seasons usually ended in cliff hangers and there was this one arc of episodes which we were following around the time I got the idea for this painting. I had long since taken my photos and we happened to be back to catch the start of the new season but we went to visit some friends that night, so we taped it. When we came home that night, we watched and I could not believe what I saw. The follow up cliff hanger episode was titled Anasazi. It began with a scene on a Native reservation where Floyd Red Crow Westermann playing Albert Hosteen said, "The earth has a secret it needs to tell." This kitchen scene was followed by an outdoor scene of a young Indian boy racing through the red rock desert and as I watched there it was, my rock. I shook my head and said to Stef, "No way." And I had to rewind the tape to see it again. Sure enough, there it was. It is little happenings like this, moments of synchronicity that corroborate for me the relevance of what I do. 
Original photo near Loy Butte So sometimes I get down with the fact that the society does not see fit to offer me financial support, allowing me free reign to produce and all I want to do is give up. Those negative thoughts are generally brought on by our fiscally guided measure of success. A poor gauge to define a persons worth. I mean if I don't do what I know in my heart I should, what else is there? Get a job? It's not like that hasn't been suggested and thrown at my door before. But from where I stand now, that would be a death greater than life itself. Melodramatic? Perhaps, but if I am not allowed to do the work, I would rather strap a knapsack on my back and wander the world. . ~ "Where
will I wander and wonder In Search of a Rose by The Waterboys ~ I press on, and in the ten years, the idea has gone through many changes. First I had the door open with a group of people floating towards it, shedding their clothes and skin until they became light itself. I lost interest in pursuing that image when I heard about the Rapture.*** Then came 911, and I thought of including some of the faces of shock and disbelief in the foreground. Although I did some sketches, that idea also faded with how that tragic event would later be used to justify an unjust war. Since those wayward ideas have passed, I have now begun actually applying pigment to canvas. Click here to view the latest progress slideshow. Sometime before I saw that X-Files episode, I had been working on a sketch of an the alien (also included in Harmonious and Mandala) hovering over the rock, arms outstretched with owl wings overlaid. I liked the idea but it fell away. Then my father sent me some pictures through an email of an unusual cloud formation, taken somewhere in Southern Ontario close to the American border. I liked them, turned them upside down and used them for my back ground. Although the initial alien background image fell to the wayside, the cloud formation if looked at from a certain perspective still contain within them the general shape of that other worldly being. Not planned, only noticed after I finished them. Along with that, I decided to add some fire, wildfires to be exact. When I was working on them, the forests surrounding Sedona caught fire. Now... since then, I have sketched a big giant wave crashing around in front of this rock. Makes me wonder what that's all about but I will not jump to any conclusions. ~ So there you go Joe, when it comes to all the things that people throw at you and want you to believe, what will they leave you with in the end? Empty promises and blame, most times. As for me, I live for the experience and if I get a little Universal affirmation that I have been on the right track, well that's all I need to get me through. ~ "Life
is pain, Highness. Wesley ~ The Princess Bride ~ Screenplay by William Goldman ~ So there have been times when my work comes with hints and affirmations of truth. But there are also times, when I use my work as a form of prayer, therapy and release from thoughts and heartaches, which plague my being and hinder my ability to freely travel the latter of consciousness. One such piece is Deliverance. An oil painting executed here in our home in Apsley but which had its origin in the Pontypool fiasco and found subject matter through our travels in the States. Deliverance was a prayer of exorcism, in an attempt to release the thoughts which continued to plague me with regard to indiscretions of the past. Although at the time that episode of my life transpired, I was in a place of objectivity, it is not always possible to hold such high regard and human emotions cannot be denied. You know... de-nile, not just a river in Egypt. Yes, this is true and deny is something we as humans seem to do quite consistently, with great effort in order to skim the surface of our existence with some level of comfort. Regardless of our efforts to deny the truth, the ice is melting and there comes a time when skating on the surface of issues is no longer an option afforded in moving forward. I had come to such a personal impasse and there was work to be done. The subject matter of Deliverance consists of myself kneeling in prayer, while Stefanie, holding an eagle feather found on our journeys, offers sage to the river in hope of release. From where I write today, I can say the spell of lingering past thought forms has passed. But through the production of this painting, brought forth with it, were other past issues which came to a head, leaving me no option but to deal with them in a direct manner. This is another issue I hesitate to share for some may not like what I have to say. Regardless and hopefully with a level of respect for not only my experience, but others who shared in that experience, I need to set the record straight. After all, it is my experience and through my experience the work emerges. To disrespect that, is to dis myself and my freedom of expression, and I can not do that anymore. Besides... what are we afraid of? 
Living
out of our vehicles in California. I will begin this with the story of how Stefanie found the eagle feather depicted in the painting. In a last gasp to try and make some headway with gallery representation in the States, Stefanie and I along with another couple in their hippy bus, decided to make a road trip up the California coast, hitting every gallery along the way. We began our trek up Highway One in San Diego and with limited success it came to its conclusion in Santa Cruz. It was not an easy trek to be sure, limited funds at our disposal left us most nights traveling into the mountains looking for resting places. More often than not, along the side of a road. Following one such night outside Santa Cruz, Stefanie woke up and had to do what all us humans have to do at one time or other during the day. As she walked down the road to relieve herself, she chose a spot and while she performed the necessary function, she saw to her amazement a clutter of eagle feathers laying right beside her. Along our travels we had collected numerous icons representing aspects of spirit, but we had never found eagle feathers, which in the Native tradition is high on the totem pole. Note: this gift of feathers did not come easy. 
In
the mountains near Santa Cruz. With our adventure having reached its conclusion and now back in Ontario, I shared this story with my brother who is also an artist. Not long after that, he shared with me an idea he had for a new painting of his daughter finding a feather. Interesting, and what makes it more interesting is that this was not the first time such questionable acts of indiscretion transpired in our artistic relationship. Now I know he will deny this to be true, but at this point I don't want to belabor the point in going through and digging up the past, which he is fond of telling me I have to let go off. The trouble with not dealing with past issues in the present is, they have a habit of popping up time and again in the future. I have found the "eternal moment" of the here and now contains within it, there, then and what's to come, stretching in all directions. 
Hungry
Jack pancakes. Those existential musings set aside for the moment, another aspect regarding my relationship with my brother is relevant to our inability to see eye to eye on issues of sibling transgression and needs to be stated. As I have mentioned in this entry, my brother married an old girlfriend of mine. Now when this development first came to my attention, I did my best to accept it and move through it to the best of my mental capacity. It was not easy but for the most part I personally worked through it. Problem was, not all parties in the drama would be so inclined. I was the one who did the leaving, when it came to the relationship I had with my now sister in law. And as my brother has since found out for himself, she is not of the type to let go of hurt feelings born of rejection easily and tends to carry grudges. An understatement. So no matter how much I tried to look past times when my brother borrowed from my experience for painting ideas, she on the other hand would instigate and create issues to put a wedge between my brother and I. And not only with my brother but anyone who was close to me. As I said earlier, she in confidence, told Stefanie to leave me, when I was the true victim of our relationship problems. Also, I know that subtly or not so subtly, she shared her prejudiced view of my character with my my mother and father as well. It was a familial mental mess, which I was burdened with for the extent of their marriage. One way I attempted to disregard the indiscretions of experience hijacking, was to say this to myself. It is not really appropriate to borrow from another's life experience for personal gain, but at least the ideas were being expressed and that, I felt was positive. It still bugged me though, and I tried to let my brother know how I felt on numerous occasions. Meeting with little success in getting my point across. For the most part, I would be seen as being unjustly angry, jealous of his success, or petty in my arguments to the point. Then came a fateful day when this trend I could no longer allow to continue in the way it had for years. 
Road
buddy Clint I was working on Deliverance and as I continued to do (despite my reservations) when my brother and his family came to visit us, I brought them to the studio to show what I was working on. This is how it went down. My brother's wife looked at the image of Stefanie holding the eagle feather and said to my brother, "I thought you were going to do a painting of our daughter finding a feather." Like I was the one stealing his idea. The final straw, the camels back broke. I was left with no option but to deal with it directly, there and then. I looked at my bro, seeing in his eyes that he knew full well what had just gone down, and to her I said (more or less), "Get out of my house and you are never welcome back nor do I ever want to see you again!" I am sure I was judged on my angry response. No winning for losing. Sounds vaguely familiar to problems a young black man is facing in running for the highest office of his land. A hard choice and not one I wanted to make or a stand I wanted to take. There were children involved. I loved and still love them dearly, but they were their children and I knew they too (along with my brother) I might never see again. Along with that, this stance made extended family get-togethers no longer merely awkward (which they had been for years already) but impossible. And where do you think the blame came to roost regarding this family drama? Well... upon my shoulders of course. I go into this story, not only to set familial distortions straight but also to point out that this game of hot potato we play, is not unique to my personal situation. I see this happening everywhere I look. I see it in the political drama of the United States. I see it in how a woman will be blamed for the rape because of how she's dressed. I see it in how I approach my life's work, where honest expression and truth are not rewarded in our society through financial support. I see it in corporations and banks going bankrupt, leaving those who have the least paying the most. I see it in an unjust war, where civilian casualties are not even counted. I see it in the snakes who started this war, disappearing and slinking back into the grass without justice being served. I see it in the ones who work the hardest making the least, while CEO's escape all responsibility of downturns with big fat bonuses. I could continue but would hope, my point has been made. It is a common thread, which runs through our society like an insidious disease, pitting brother against brother and turning friends into foes. If there is a conspiracy afoot, I would have to say this aspect of the game is at its root. Divide and conquer but I am not sure who will win in the end. I can only see who loses. Something has to change, and if we don't change it within our own world, how will it manifest itself in the larger scheme of things? So forgive me brother but I had to say it. If I did not include it, my point of how who's on top infects the rest, would not have the same impact. I hope my bro can see it as I tried to see it when ideas were borrowed, it's for the greater good to express it. Since those days, my brother has left his wife for his own reasons and although we still have issues to deal with, I am glad to say I have once again had the opportunity to renew my relationship with him and my nephew. Despite, or perhaps because of my nephew having to endure a, more often than not, tumultuous parental influence, he's become a responsible adult. Not to sound patronizing but this world can use all the good people it can get. Through it all, my brother did a good job in that respect and deserves credit. Enough of that and again brother, don't take it the wrong way. ~ So they say, imitation is the highest form of flattery. I've recently heard it said repeatedly, with regard to Sarah Palin and the Saturday Night Live skit getting laughs at her expense. But what is even funnier than Tina Faye's interpretation is hearing about how Palin's aid said that she had seen it and found it funny. And this statement accompanied with how Palin once dressed as Tina Fay for Halloween? Am I supposed to believe that? If she dressed up as Tina Faye, then I dressed up as Will Ferrell last Halloween. How does one dress up as an until recently, relatively obscure comedian or even come up with the notion to do so? Palin may have an imagination but I don't believe it is that good. Of course, with all things considered, she could just be lying. Again. Since I wrote this, I have heard Palin herself say she watched the skit with the sound turned down. Okay... Speaking of lying and imitational flattery, I wonder if Obama sees it that way when he watches McCain's campaign hijack his message of change? Or is Obama ecstatic when John McCain repeatedly uses the one word from Obama's acceptance speech, "Enough!" which struck a chord within my heart? I wouldn't think so. When Obama said it, I felt it. When McCain says it, it comes off sounding flat, no matter if he says it four times in a row. Who are they trying to fool? You, me, rednecks? Maybe, but I would hope that even the hardiest of hunters would see through that camouflaged rip off. I have friends who are proud of their sun scorched necks and like any other group of people, they can not be painted with the same wide brush. My redneck friends hunt and that's fine with me. They know I don't eat meat and respect that. The news may try to lump stupid prejudiced white people together in one voting block but through my own experience, I have not found such generalizations to be true. For example: When my trailer caught fire in Ohio (including the fire department and paramedics) the one person who stopped to help out was, what most would consider as white trash. This guy (can't recall his name, wish I could) knowing I was one of those weird elite artist types, took it upon himself and let me leave the burnt out hulk of my trailer next to the one he lived in. Despite the fact that he was given a hard time by the trailer park people, it was still there when I came to pick it up on my way back from doing the Florida shows. Then to top it off, he said he was cool with me taking what was left of the trailer, while leaving the burnt part behind. As I have said in the other writing on this subject, I wish I could have given him something more than a print for his troubles. And I am sure this is one of those white people in Ohio, which the news tries to glaze over as blue collar. I'm not sure what the color of his collar was. In the same respect, when I hear people say how all politicians are the same, it lights the fire within me. I grow weary of such generalizations and tend to respond passionately and I will admit, with a tinge of anger to fuel it. But then I have spoken of anger and my justification for its use and existence. Anger, when used appropriately brings with it a knife edge of clarity. With this clarity I see that we are not all the same, no matter what color, vocation or location we adhere to. So Al Gore says we are responsible for global warming. But I am not supposed to believe him, because he is a fear mongering politician. Never mind that Bush and Palin say contrary, being politicians themselves. Or should we just ignore that countless scientists are saying that indeed we are playing a part in warming our planet? Or what did I hear on the news recently? The arctic could be ice free, no... not in twenty years, but next summer. I suppose the irrelevance in that bit of disturbing news is its source, the news itself. Before global warming became a hot topic, I had long held that man was not doing the earth much good. Personally, I see the planet we live on as a living entity unto itself and could quite possibly have a conscious awareness independent of the fleas who inhabit it. Perhaps with all the storms and natural disaster events of late, she is waking up to the fact that she is suffering from an infestation. If you think about it from a planet's perspective, cities and human activity could be seen by her as cancerous growths which need to be irradiated and eradicated. What does a dog do when it has fleas? It scratches. So is global warming, "God giving us a nice warm hug" and naturally occurring? Of this, I am sure. Not the God part, but yes... the earth like everything else in this Universe goes through natural cycles. But to just hold to that, in effect, creating an apathetic denial of any man-made responsibility is ridiculous. Just look at the woman who holds to this argument. Killing a moose does not make one an environmental expert. Sarah Palin upholds the notion that killing wolves from helicopters is helpful to those who subsist on caribou and to the health of the herd. Even my seven year old daughter knows better than that. I asked her, and she basically told me that the wolves serve the herd by taking down the old, weak and diseased, keeping the herd healthy. I think Sarah should pull the gun out of her ass and pay more attention to the shows kids are watching, and listen to what the Kratt brothers would tell her is true. Oh... but then there's the truth and the truth. I am amazed at how many variations and denials of truth there are in our world. Are elections rigged? Is electronic voting an avenue for corrupt results? Perhaps and quite possibly true. I am not sure why putting an X with a pencil on paper was abandoned. But are you certain of rigged voting machines? Are you willing to believe that possibility to the point where voting no longer holds any possibility to make a difference in our world? Or is the electronic conspiracy designed to create apathy and cynicism, which makes you stay at home forfeiting the small voice we still hold? As I have said before, it is a small thing to hedge the bet and go vote regardless. Obama is just another politician. Are you sure of that? Have you been afforded the opportunity to look into his heart, to know for certain this is true? Or is it because of something someone told you, which played on your fear of politicians? So are you above judging him because of his skin color, but prejudiced because of his vocational choice in how to serve? I only ask this because pillars set aside, he is just a man like you and me. Unless you are a woman, but you get my point and don't call me sexist. Do you think he loves his kids as much as you love yours? Did you take the time to read his book? I did and unless I am a fool, there was one part that nailed my heart. It was when he spoke of his daughters and I broke down in tears. It felt honest and true to the point where my eyes spilled over. I tried to share it with Stefanie but I could not read the passage again, because I could not stop crying. No matter what I may hear about him from others, I will hold to that. I see a sliver of light. Do I believe he is the black messiah? I would hope you give me more credit then that. But I won't expect it. When I hear how he changed his mind on this and that, I choose to give him maneuvering room in order to move into the house. I pray that in his pursuit, he does not lose himself. At times I disagree with his positions but that is true with most everyone I know. I don't hunt, but I still respect my redneck friends to do so. Personally, I believe the twin towers were brought down by criminals within the US halls of power, wherever those halls may preside. Secret government? I don't know. What does Obama himself believe about that event? I don't know but I do know this. If he believed and spoke about any conspiracy involved, his influence on the world would be relegated to the internet and go no further. I on the other hand, am not running for office and able to speak freely but only on the internet. When I watched that day, the thought 'could they have done this to their own people' felt possible. Then in witnessing the aftereffect, which lead to a patriotic resurgence of young men and women entering military service, this only added to my suspicion. Next, there was a war. Then, there was another started on lies and I was left with little doubt of my initial gut reaction. Was it a war started because of oil? Of course it was. Was it a war started because religious fanatics want their prophecies fulfilled? I wouldn't doubt it. Was it a war to justify more war? Aren't they all? So yes, I don't agree with Obama on all aspects of his world view. But so what? What I do believe, is that his heart is in the right place. The same place as mine, with our daughters future. Then, if I should get through to the absolute conspiricists on that point (with regard to Obama's character) I am usually handed this, "Sure, but even if he gets in, he is going to get killed." That's the point where my head enters my hands and all that is left to say is, "I'm sure he is fully aware of that possibility but should it happen, the change the world needs will come that much quicker." To be honest, I don't think they do it that way anymore. It is much easier and less bloody to sabotage his chances of ever getting in, in the first place. The last thing they want to see is another Kennedy, King style martyrdom. I see them trying. Reverend Wright, bitter white folk with guns, baby killing Muslim and on and on... And for those who see my television watching as subjecting my head to propaganda, causing me to fall prey to the secret government, I have a secret for you. They know about the internet. I question everything but my heart. And sadly, as a human I have to admit, I even question that sometimes. ~ "They
sentenced me to twenty years of boredom First We Take Manhattan by Leonard Cohen ~ So the towers fell and later my brother would share with me the documentary "Loose Change" (a doc which runs through scenarios of how it could have been done internally) but as I have said, I thought so already. One thing from that movie, in fact from the news footage itself of flight 93 which they say went down in Pennsylvania, is the lack of visible wreckage. It was basically just a big hole in the ground as far as I've ever seen. I have seen my share of downed planes on television but I have never seen anything like that. Planes do not just disintegrate. The same goes for the one which allegedly crashed into the Pentagon. ~ Enough on that specific conspiracy, I have my own theory on how the masses are controlled and manipulated. With my interest in the media known as television (specifically the news media) I think some may think that I am naive to the truth that manipulation is at play. Of course I am aware of this fact and that is the main reason I feel the need to watch. I find it fascinating and disturbing, to see how this tool is used to move the masses who watch everyday. It is a powerful tool and it is used by forces of various interests and motivations, to create the effect and outcome they want. Just the oil company ads are impressive in how they, through a constant onslaught, have convinced 80% of Americans that off shore drilling will benefit them. News flash, oil companies serve themselves. Wouldn't gas prices be cheaper, if they didn't spend all their money on advertising? It's twisted to be sure. But if one thinks that the internet media is any different and above such grand deceptions, think again. Is it? I could write down anything here, whether it is true or not. Perhaps the only proof that what I write is true, as far as I see it, is I don't get anything out of it. No matter how much I would prefer otherwise, no one is paying me to do this. See any ads running on my site? In fact, with most of what I write about, I generally shoot myself in the fiscal foot. Speaking of fiscal responsibilities I have to wrap this journal entry up and get ready for our weekend studio tour. So I will do my best to tie up the loose ends of the common thread I see running through my life and the world outside. What's the best way to rig an election? Convince them that their vote is worthless. Make them feel powerless. Pretend to be for education but don't do anything to improve it. Dumb down the population. If an honest inspiring person should come along and slip through the crack, remove his shine. Hire a hockey mom as your running mate. Put fundamentalist values on the ballot. All of the above and more... But one of the most powerful control factors I see is this, twist the truth, pass the buck and lay all blame on the victim. I see it happening everywhere I look and not just in politics or US elections. Here is one example. I recently bought a new woodstove with a lifetime warranty from a well respected company in the industry, Vermont Castings. What I was not aware of, was that the original company was bought and sold and bought again. Who knows how many times? Certainly I don't. What was left, was a name brand run by a nameless corporation of initials. Three months after I bought the stove, the corp. filed for chapter 11. It was bought by another company and the lifetime warranty I thought I bought, did not follow the transfer of the name. Things went wrong with the stove, the dealer I bought the stove from and the new company who now carries the name, abdicated all responsibility. Long story short, the dealer did everything he could possibly do to put the blame for the malfunctioning stove on me, although I followed the directions on installation and use to the letter. Click here if you should wish to read the full story, complete with names and addresses. It is all I have to fight back, spread the word on the internet. Wonderful tool and I intend to use it. Also, check out my thread at the forum on www.hearth.com or go directly to the thread at Vermont Castings Warranty Woes. Another example of this blame game phenomenon began one rainy day when my family and I were innocently traveling down one of our public highways. It was raining heavily but as I looked in the mirror the spray coming off the back of the truck seemed excessive. I thought perhaps we had blown a radiator hose or we had a fire, so I pulled the truck onto the shoulder. It was not long until I figured out what the problem was. The rear heater hose had blown. We could go no further, and were thankful that someone stopped to help us out. I stayed with the vehicle, while Stefanie and Samsara were taken back home, where she called a tow truck to pick up me and the truck. I would say I acted responsibly and did the best I could. As I waited, a fire rescue team stopped to ask if I needed any assistance and I told them that the situation was under control. Eventually, the tow truck came, he brought me to the local garage, I fixed the truck and thought that was the end of it. As it turned out, that was just the beginning. Some months later, I received a letter from the Ministry of Transportation, which included a bill for 1200.00. What? What happened was that someone passing by had called the fire department on their cell phone, causing a chain reaction of firemen getting in their trucks to save me from my blown heater hose. Wow... what a wonderful use of modern day communication tools. Perhaps they should have stopped, not only to make their cell call but to see if their assumption was correct before placing it. There was no way I was going to pay this 1200.00 bill, even if I had the money to spend. It progressively become a matter of principle for me, so after numerous calls to and from the Ministry of Transportation, they finally said, "Pay it or we are going to take you to court". I told them, "See you in court". Sometime later I got another letter in the mail. This time it was from the Attorney General for the Province of Ontario on behalf of the Ministry of Transportation. The court summons included so many errors, it boggled my mind, leaving me to think, 'what kind of lawyers are they hiring in our government?' Novices, it turns out. Just one example of an erroneous assumption was that I was parked at a bridge blocking traffic. There was not a bridge within ten kilometers of where I pulled the truck safely off to the side of the road. So I put my lawyer hat on. I found it on the internet. I researched laws and bylaws, rules of the road, took pictures, contacted eye witnesses and had a crash course in small claims court law. It was all over at the preliminary pretrial where the judge said, "The reason you were stopped on the side of the road, was because you were driving a car. They break down." I asked the lawyer for the Attorney General, "Have you ever had to stop on the side of a highway because your car broke down?" To which he replied, "No, not on a highway but once on a side road." Who was this guy, Lionel Hutz? Before Lionel was a real-estate agent he had also been a lawyer on The Simpsons. "There's the truth and the truth." Regardless that I had won already, I decided to take them further and make them go to court. They wanted to drop it but I was not about to let them off the hook they had put me on. I did more research and lawyer work, basically following their example and attacked it in the same manner I execute a painting or anything else I do. Hell... they should have been charged with legal malfeasance, which the judge later said was a possibility. By the time the trial was set, the Attorney General had woken up to the fact that I was a thorn to be reckoned with and had sent lawyers who resembled characters from the television show Law and Order. Well... despite their renewed efforts I didn't have to pay them but I also didn't get anything out of it money wise. But that's okay, I got an education and feel I did pretty well for a grade ten dropout. This internet thing is a good tool, we as citizens should use it to our advantage. All this trouble because of a problem I fixed with a two dollar clamp. A statement on the human condition. 
One last place where I see this cross the board political mayhem, is in my favorite sport. I grew up next to a race track and when I was a kid, my friends and I would ride our bikes to the track, sneak in the back way and watch the Formula 1 and Can am races. We would pick our drivers and I would always pick Bruce McLaren as my guy. Bruce would later be killed doing what he loved best but the Mclaren name would continue to compete, to this day. For those who don't follow the sport, today there is a young driver named Lewis Hamilton who races for McLaren. He's good. And for the people who govern the sport, perhaps a little too good. Or maybe, it's because he could quite possibly be the first black driver to ever win an F1 championship? Sound familiar to another political drama currently unfolding? Maybe the Ferrari brand (McLaren's chief rival) is of republican origin? I find it strange that when Hamilton won in a recent race in Belgium and the penalties were handed out to forfeit his win, I checked the internet for information regarding the situation and landed on a site that carried a polling question, "Is it over for Obama?" There they were, the black history makers of the year, together on the same page being penalized and set back in their place. The penalty for Hamilton was obvious to many in the sport, as bias. It was as obvious as the lipstick on a pig thing, which has recently been thrown back at Obama by the McCain campaign, in a bogus attempt to label him sexist. What have we come to here? It almost makes me want to just throw in my hat and give up on the things I hold dear. Some would say, that is what I should do. I mean, what are you doing wasting your time getting up before the crack of dawn to watch a race which is most likely rigged. To that I say, "It's a childhood love." And despite the obvious manipulation of events, I will always be amazed by these guys who put their lives on the line, pushing the limits of their ability to focus in extreme conditions of fear and fearlessness. It's the razors edge. The same edge where higher states of consciousness exist. Focus on the point of a pencil or paintbrush, or focus on the apex of a corner, its all the same to me. Many routes, same end game. So Formula One is a massive waste of money and natural resources. People on our planet are starving and the earth is heating up. At times I feel a hypocrite for being interested, because I know a redistribution of wealth (no matter what the conservatives may call it) is something which needs to occur on our planet, if we are to endure. But along with that truth, I recognize that we as humans must push the boundaries of our awareness to fully comprehend that truth of injustice. Take the Olympics as another example. I agree they should never have been held in China and that Tibet (a most sacred place on our world) is being subjugated for reasons that run deeper than most can comprehend. But along with that, when I watched some of the diving events with my father (who was a diver in his youth), I saw the Chinese diver win the gold because she had the same quality of focus and the ability to center her mind as found in forms of spiritual meditation. Should we throw out all forms of competition? Sounds to me like throwing out the baby with the bathwater. No matter how black and white some people want to make our world, there are shades of gray in between. Is the world run by forces beyond our control? I refuse to believe that. In fact, I believe that is exactly what they would want us to believe. Those who feel powerless to change anything in their world, are easy to control. I believe they want us to believe our vote does not count. I believe having used my art as a voice of truth and having run into countless obstacles, road blocks and hopelessness along the way, that the system in place is designed to shut me up. I can not count the times I have wanted to quit. I could be wealthy if I did what the so called, "painter of light" Thomas Kinkade does. Lately he has been selling Nascar prints through television Bamzu type advertising and the expression "painter of light" he has trademarked. Go ahead Google the words and see what comes up. And while you are at it, Google this name, Korczak Ziolkowski to see an artists work which he himself will not see completed, now that's what I call an artist of light, never mind merely a painter. Something is wrong here, but I don't believe it's a secret. In fact, I believe it is becoming more obvious with each passing sunrise. The problem is, apathy induced cynicism and our fear of speaking up. Speaking up within our own familial units. Speaking up when the thing you bought turns out to be not. Speaking up and doing something about it, when a bill comes to your door, not of your creation. Speaking up when your neighbor decides to use the easement you share with him as a logging route. Endangering your child as she waits for the bus, without any discussion before hand. Click here to read about that story if you want. If you don't, here is gist of the story. Guess who was saddled with the blame and responsibility regarding safety and road repairs, for a six month long logging operation not of my making? Me of course. Just speak up, in whatever way you can, no matter how small your voice may seem. It's bigger than you think. I am sure some think I draw and create these unjust events to my door, through my negative attitude. But I choose to see it another way. I see injustices as gifts. In this way even the devil himself is gods servant. I would not have given myself an education in law, if the Ministry of Transportation had not tried to extort me for money I did not have or rightfully owe. And one more thing on that score. Who was the one using their cell while driving past? Should they not have been given the cost for calling in a false alarm? As twenty-five people in California have recently found out, operating a moving vehicle while distracted by our modern conveniences (whether driving a car or conducting a train) can be deadly. So here we all are. Going round and round a sun which will someday go supernova, making all humanities' grand schemes and these small words mute. What's it all about? One day, I guess we will all find out without a doubt. We are all heading to the same ending. Until then, I am going to look at people like Lewis Hamilton, Barack Obama and others to whom I have opened my heart for inspiration to continue in the best way I know how, despite penalties served or falsehoods spoken. "Some try to tell me thoughts they can not defend." These words are from that Moody Blues album, A Question of Balance, which was left behind by my departed sister for me to listen to. They still ring true. In this world, some things are eternal and perhaps the reason for this, is that this is where they came from. So when some try to tell me I should not look outside myself for inspiration, while they do that very thing, well... I know where they are coming from and it is not me. ~ One more thing or maybe two more things but I really have to stop. Has anybody heard we have an energy crisis? That is an understatement, and fueling our cars is not the only leak or weak link in the system. I hear an oil man named T. Boone Pickens talking to Mr. Independent and I just hear the same old crap. Middlemen giving us the answers they want us to believe. Let's see, "Go ahead and drill, drill, drill, but we need alternatives like wind, solar and bio fuels." Sounds pretty amazing at first to hear T. Boone speaking of alternatives, after all, he was an oil man. Albeit an oil man who helped bury Kerry with contributions to the swiftboat campaign. But then I listen a little closer to his answer to this problem and I hear his centralized windmill farms will need a government supported infrastructure to deliver the power to the people. What's wrong with that picture? Sounds good on the surface. Well, I will tell you what I see wrong with it. First of all, who is going to cash in when we need to get our power from T. Boone? T. Boone of course. There's the problem. Well then, what is the solution? I have a suggestion. How about instead of the government helping T. Boone take our hard earned money, why don't they help individuals set up their own power plants on the roofs of their homes? Think about it. There are environmental concerns regarding centralized solar fields and the land they would require. And for some reason people don't want to look at windmill farms. But we all (or at least some of us still do) have roofs over our heads, which could be generating power, as well as keeping our heads dry. Now here is where my plan gets labeled that dirty word, socialist. If we all had power generating homes, which fed directly into the grid, it would create a truly independent collective. Some homes are suited for wind, some for solar, some for both. Just imagine it. If you conserve and feed into the grid you make money, if you are a pig and suck off the grid, you pay money. Our taxes pay to keep up the grid, delivery costs should be eliminated and energy loss through extended hydro lines will be eliminated, when power is used directly from our personal collection system. Of course I don't know where T. Boone would fit into this equation. Nor do I see how Mr. Independent (alias Lou Dobbs) who considers T. Boone a close friend, will benefit. Not that I wanted to but now that I have brought up Mr. Independent, I have a couple of bones to pick with him. Mr. Independent with all your talk of government corruption through lobbying and what not... who is it that pays your salary? Is it the oil lobbyists that advertise incessantly on CNN paying for your air time? Then there's another of Lou Dobbs' great concerns, no not aliens but the war on drugs. As far as the war on drugs Lou, I have done my share in the past and can still write here today in a coherent manner. At least I hope it's coherent. My point being, despite my youthful experimentations I am here today, a responsible adult. Sure, today I still have a puff once in awhile but the pharmaceuticals, well... as far as I'm concerned, those will kill you. If not through physical side effects, then in spirit. But then again, I guess they pay your bonus don't they Lou? So if you have an erection lasting more than four hours don't call your doctor, just accept the fact that perhaps it is natural to lose sexual prowess as we get older. Perhaps there are other avenues of life we should move through as we age. Avenues such as self-realization and spiritual evolution. ~ It has been a long journey to get to the end of this entry. Seems I took the long way round and I hope it was worth it, but I will try not to worry otherwise. With this US election, I see distinct differences and possible futures. Are we going up, or are we going down? It would be nice if we could set all prophecies and conspiracies aside, for nothing is written in stone and we hold the power of our children's future in our hands. We are responsible. Whether one chooses to believe that or not is irrelevant, because that is the truth. I see this election as a turning point. I wish this decision was up to all of us to vote on, but it isn't. But one thing we as citizens of the world can do is change those qualities within ourselves that reflect the obvious choice presented. I don't believe if Obama became president that all would be instantly well with the world. He himself says there is work to be done and we all have to do our part. That's another reason I like him. He inspires others to do for themselves, or at least he has done that for me. And I will take it, because I can use all the inspiration I can get. And besides, look at the alternative. Not that I want to generalize the pit bull population, I've met some decent pit bulls, but I would watch out for pit bulls wearing lipstick. And hockey moms? I've met some in my days of playing the sport and they can be some of the nastiest bitches you could ever run into. Since experience has been such an important subject in the US election, that was until McCain picked hockey mom Palin as his running mate, here is my hockey mom experience. My last good year of playing hockey, was playing goal in the second year of bantam league. I must have been twelve, fourteen or so and two goalies were my heroes. One of them was a legend to the sport named Jacques Plante. He was the inventor of the goalie mask and through his invention, I was inspired. Along with my father's help, I designed and made from scratch my own goalie mask out of fiberglass, using a hand made plug and mold. My father worked in boats, so he was knowledgeable in making fiberglass hulls and the principle is the same for masks. I wore the mask I made with my father with childhood pride. Then came a day while standing in net, I overheard a hockey mom standing behind me (a Mrs. Hickey) spout these words in a self-righteous know it all stream of intentional hurt. "He can't see out of that mask." She knew full well that I had made the mask and said it, so that I could hear. It cut through me and behind that mask, I definitely could no longer see for the stream of tears. If competition is a bad thing, that form of it surely is. But that was not the end of that hockey year. I continued to wear that mask and play goal. A drama ensued and I wanted to quit after that hockey mom comment but I had decent coaches who knew, at that stage of play, it was not all about winning. They inspired me to continue playing goal. And here's the kicker of this hockey story. Hollywood could not have written it any better. It was down to two teams in the playoffs, Orono (my team) and Bewdley, the best team in the league. It was my turn in net. Somehow the two best players of the best team got a two man breakaway, none of my teammates between them and me. Staying cool, I remembered the advice of my other hockey hero, Bernie Parent. Move out, cover the angle and slowly skate back. Watch, let the opponent make the first move. I watched them and knew instinctively that the one player would pass it to the other. I made my move, slid across the net catching glove open, and low and behold that is where the puck ended up, in my glove. Can't see eh? Fuck you hockey mom. I guess I have always wanted to say that. It only took more than thirty years but now it's done. 
As I look back, I don't know what a sensitive artist type was doing playing hockey? I suppose I was doing what my friends were doing. But despite the hockey mom, that year was a good one. Every moment of that one save is etched in my brain to this day. Everyone was impressed. The coach from the other team told me, it was the best save he ever saw and the two opposing players tapped my pads with their sticks in a show of respect. Personally, I felt it was a fluke but then again, I did make all the right moves, so maybe not. We won the championship that year and the picture here shows our team. It was taken by one of my coaches, Mr. Phillips, who was a teacher of photography at Ryerson University in Toronto, and an artist in his own right. So hockey moms can be bitches, not all, but being one does not qualify you to be leader of the free world. Before I get labeled a sexist for calling that hockey mom a bitch, I will state my case to prove my point. Stefanie and I both work at home. Stefanie might make dinner but I do my share of the house work. In fact, I had to take a break from this writing to vacuum the house because the studio tour starts tomorrow. In our relationship, we share in the duties and don't have a nanny or housekeeper. Is that enough to prove I am not sexist? Probably not, and with what I have to say about Sarah Palin being a step away from being commander in chief, being male, I might get hit with that convenient label again. No matter if it is true or not. So I will tell you what my mother thinks of a woman of five accepting the nomination for vice president. My mother thinks it is just plain crazy and she is not the only woman I know to say this. Is my mother sexist? I wouldn't think so, but she does come from the old days where the man worked and the wife stayed at home, so perhaps her opinion doesn't count in our modern age. Or does it? For 82, my mother is hip to what is going on these days. More than being of the old sexist days, she comes from a pragmatic time and family upbringing. For her, it is just not practical for someone (anyone) to take on that much. Having raised three children herself and come from a family of nine or ten kids, she knows that being a mother is a full time job. I personally would argue that with all that on one plate, something has to suffer. Stefanie and I are home all the time and even we find raising one conscious little human, comes with its challenges. One of the reasons we stopped at one, is because we want to put all our available energy into raising someone who might make a positive difference in our world. I am not saying everyone should do that but having five, it might be wise to stay at home, instead of privatizing the job out to nanny inc. It's the parent's responsibility to teach their children. One thing I know, my daughter will be well informed regarding sex because I was a boy once and know what that is about. We have already begun the education and she will (as her parents did) choose the time she wishes to have children, should she choose to have any at all. 
Click image for the most So I suppose the responsibility of raising the kids will fall on Todd Palin. Then again, I saw him today in the background scene of some McCain Palin event, which made me wonder, 'who's minding the store at home?' Right. It's none of my business but if you are running for a position of public service, perhaps it is to the American people and the rest of us, who will feel the ripple effect and aftershock. The truth of this sexist label being thrown around is pure politics. It's an opportunity to throw a lipsticked pig at Obama. It's a distraction avenue to fall back on, in order to play the victim. Obama sexist? If he was sexist, I don't think he would have married such a strong woman. And in Michelle Obama, I still see a woman. When I imagine Sarah calling Todd to take out the garbage or some such thing, it makes my skin crawl. I've known women like that. I admire women of power, as long as they don't grow Thatchers in the process. If a woman needs to be like a man in order to balance the books, the game is lost already. During the French election I was rooting for Segolene Royal, the woman candidate who as far as I could tell had kept her femininity, but sadly she did not win. There are more women more qualified within the political spectrum of US politics. McCain picking Palin is a political move, raising a question around the world. "Could the US system spit out someone less qualified, more religiously twisted, more ignorant and worse that George W. Bush?" We have the answer, "Yes they can." Nice figurehead for the ship to nowhere John. What our world needs is an emergence of the feminine energy. Not just tits or women juggling their husbands balls like a prize. We need leaders or representatives of humanity to rise out of the male dominated mess we are in, with their femininity intact. Not more puppets pretending to be men. If the last eight years are any indication, pretence just doesn't cut it anymore, if it ever did. "Doing a heck of a job Browny." Yeah right, but looking at the Obamas, I see true feminine strength in Michelle and a husband who is comfortable with his feminine side, balls intact. More than tits pretending to be balls or experience, what this world needs is leaders like Daw Aung San Suu Kyi of Burma to be released from prison and the Dalai Lama to be allowed to return home and activists like Gandhi to be remembered. So it all comes back to where I started my trip. It's... "A Question of Balance". So as the man said, "Enough!" I felt that to my core. It felt true and although it was nice to hear that Michael Moore felt the same thing when that simple word was spoken, his affirmation was just that. Corroboration of what I already knew in my heart to be true. 
"The most rewarding
part was... ~ And good god, what does Georgie boy want now? A $700,000,000,000.00 bailout with no strings attached? For who? The perpetrators of the crime? Something has to change, the victims can not keep paying with their lives for malpractice performed by Doctor Nick and his interns. Those at the bottom of this pyramid scheme, are the foundation getting crushed. Perhaps it would be best if we just stepped out of the way and let this illusion of security fall where it may. Enough already. The common thread which ties our dysfunctional human family up in knots must be unraveled, if not, simply broken. ~ Note to my Canadian brethren. Before you start to feel all high and mighty like you are above all this American election bullshit, we have our own Bush McPalin ticket to contend with. In the last election I tried to inform as many as possible to vote against Harper. Well... he's still with us. Just recently I heard he has cut arts funding. Vote and vote against Harper. If you don't, you'll carry the blame, not me. Please, play your part even if you think it doesn't matter. ~ This
entry is for Samsara Cheyenne Boots Samsara:
1. Hinduism.
the endless cycle of birth death and rebirth. East meets West ~ * Lionel Hutz: Simpsons character voiced by the late Phil Hartman. Lionel had various vocations including real estate agent, lawyer and I believe he even served as a baby sitter for the Simpsons family in one episode. This incarnation of Lionel's diverse and well rounded character of mediocre talents, was my favorite.
Crazy Horse sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski with his wife Ruth. ** Politically Incorrect Disclaimer: Word Polack used with reason. I carry within me Native sensibilities which sometimes runs into conflict with Native American feelings of just one more thing stolen. It is nice to see that the sculptor and sculpture of Crazy Horse transcended this political divide. *** Fundamentalist Christian Armageddon belief that when Jesus returns believers will be lifted to heaven shedding their clothes while the rest of us sinners are left here to rot in pestilence and boils. Nice. I wonder if that was what Christ had in mind when he said to love each other? **** Dr. Nick Riviera: Another of our favorite characters from the Simpsons, voiced by Hank Azaria. I looked for the "money" sound bite but could not find it. So "Bye bye everybody", will just have to do. Seems a fitting way to end this. ~ Note: To reach other entries of the past just use the Index on the right by choosing the date, a flyout title will also appear to help in your inquiry. Or click here for Page 8 of the Journal. ~ |
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