[Image: “Hard Lesson (Detail),” by Lewis Minor; found it on Flickr, and use it here of course under a Creative Commons license (thank you!). Minor is one of numerous photo-artists on Flickr who assemble found photos into collages of often eerily photorealistic quality. (Some are more successful than others, of course — just as is true of the component images.) In this example, captioned “Messin with Banksy and Bouguereau,” he’s combined portions of each of those artists’ work with some Pop-art-style scraps from here and there. This is a detail which he selected from the full image, here. Really, I could’ve used any of a dozen or more choices from Minor’s photostream.]
From whiskey river:
The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of today) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also.
(G. K. Chesterton [source])
…and:
If we look at this conflict as a straight eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation between Empire and those of us who are resisting it, it might seem that we are losing.
But there is another way of looking at it. We, all of us gathered here, have, each in our own way, laid siege to Empire.
We may not have stopped it in its tracks—yet—but we have stripped it down. We have made it drop its mask. We have forced it into the open. It now stands before us on the world’s stage in all its brutish, iniquitous nakedness.
…Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness—and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.
The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling—their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability. Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them.
(Arundhati Roy [source])
…and (italicized portion):
The time has come, the Walrus said. Perhaps things will get worse and then better. Perhaps there’s a small god up in heaven readying herself for us. Another world is not only possible, she’s on her way. Maybe many of us won’t be here to greet her, but on a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.
(Roy, ibid.)
…and:
Happiness
A state you must dare not enter
with hopes of staying,
quicksand in the marshes, and allthe roads leading to a castle
that doesn’t exist.
But there it is, as promised,with its perfect bridge above
the crocodiles,
and its doors forever open.
(Stephen Dunn [source])
Not from whiskey river:
There are ways in, journeys to the center of life, through time; through air, matter, dream and thought. The ways are not always mapped or charted, but sometimes being lost, if there is such a thing, is the sweetest place to be. And always, in this search, a person might find that she is already there, at the center of the world. It may be a broken world, but it is glorious nonetheless.
(Linda Hogan [source])
…and:
The path is the goal.
This path has one very distinct characteristic: it is not prefabricated. It doesn’t already exist. The path that we’re talking about is the moment-by-moment evolution of our experience, the moment-by-moment evolution of our thoughts and emotions. The path is uncharted. It comes into existence moment by moment and at the same time drops away behind us.
When we realize that the path is the goal, there’s a sense of workability. Everything that occurs in our confused mind we can regard as the path. Everything is workable.
(Pema Chödrön [source])
…and:
Hunting for mushrooms can feel surprisingly like hunting animals, particularly if you’re looking for edible species. Searching for chanterelles, I’ve found myself unconsciously walking on tiptoe across mossy stumps as if they might hear me coming. It doesn’t work well if you walk around and try to spot them directly. They have an uncanny ability to hide from the searching eye. Instead, you have to alter the way you regard the ground around you, concern yourself with the strange phenomenology of leaf litter and try to give equal attention to all the colours, shapes and angles on the messy forest floor. Once you’ve achieved this relaxed and faintly predatory gaze, brilliant wax-yellow chanterelles often pop out from behind leaves and twigs and moss, and now they look quite unlike the false chanterelles growing beside them.
(Helen Macdonald [source])
…and:
A Thank-You Note
For John Skoyles
My daughter made drawings with the pens you sent,
line drawings that suggest the things they represent,
different from any drawings she — at ten — had done,
closer to real art, implying what the mind fills in.
For her mother she made a flower fragile on its stem;
for me, a lion, calm, contained, but not a handsome one.
She drew a lion for me once before, on a get-well card,
and wrote I must be brave even when it’s hard.Such love is healing — as you know, my friend,
especially when it comes unbidden from our children
despite the flaws they see so vividly in us.
Who can love you as your child does?
Your son so ill, the brutal chemo, his looming loss
owning you now — yet you would be this generous
to think of my child. With the pens you sent
she has made I hope a healing instrument.
(Michael Ryan [source])
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