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Friday, November 12, 2010

Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation

Is utter isolation the flip side of the intense focus necessary for creating? Some become reclusive and others maintain a public profile - guess to each his or her own. How far removed is the sculptor from the sculpture?

Know what I would be doing when this hibernation is over. Big time pruning. Will whip this into an essay. No, no I protest to myself. Will make this into an essay and a stream of consciousness piece. No, have a better idea. After I have pruned the essay will separately add these thoughts in the middle of the essay and see what emerges. But it still needs a summation, an effective round up and closing if it were an essay, I tell myself.

In the mind seas thoughts ferment, brew, overwhelm and dissipate with the ceaseless intensity of the waves hitting the shore. Some return to make their mark, others whither or whirl to strike at distant shores.

Thoughts strike alike the living and the petrified. Innocent or enigmatic contemplation provides the wind in sails, passion in emotions. The magic potion between irresistible dreams and impossible logic: cerebration. And meditation? One a wind and the other cloud? The petrified remain untouched, unharmed and unaffected.

Nothing comes between the neurons of an agile mind and the keyboard, the brush and the canvas, the chisel and the rock, when the creator is obsessed and driven. The result endeavors to capture, share and reflect the clarity of that moment of revelation.

The existential angst mixes with atomic intensity and bombards the restless mind. In desolate and hostile terrain of Living, it creates images that unblur Truth, Beauty, Appreciation, Stillness and Life. Life keeps returning. No death can keep it at bay. Disaster, calamities, dictators and ultra-orthodox firebrands do not know this.



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