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A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession. Albert Camus Read more:http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/a/albert_camus.html#ixzz1fDpzuXeA The True and The Questions: A Journal By: Sabrina Ward Harrison 
Add Comment So, before I leave my day job...for real this time...I want to post my thoughts on a subject that I wrote a little about a few weeks ago. I was thinking of a painting I had worked on a little bit ago...it encompassed the idea of a first frost or first snow...how pristine it is. Like a brides veil. Also what was going on in my head while working was the idea of "the one" which began the piece below (this is only a detail). What does that mean? Is there really a "perfect one" for each of us? The notion of one person filling every need, every "desire" we have as individuals is clouded I think. A new love is like the excitement of the first really big snow fall. The anticipation of catching snow on the tongue, making snow angels, and building the first snowman of the season...but after coming in for warmth, dryness and hot cocoa you look out the window and see the aftermath, but in the end you only have to ask "was it...is it worth it?" If you can say "yes, it is" then you know that even though it might not be perfect, in the end you get what you know is important. 
So I was gathering up my things from work to go teach my Painting class at HACC Leb., I secured the front desk area and the front door, got in my car and drove off. I got only a few blocks away when I realized that I was leaving about an hour early. Wow! did I feel stupid. You know what though. Doing things like this enables one to laugh at themselves. A hearty dose of laughing at ones self is so good for the soul. It puts the ego in check. Image of "Laughing Jesus" source unknown 
 "Laughing Buddha" source unknown I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back The less I give the more I get back Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise I don't have a choice, but I still choose you I don't love you but I always will... The Civil Wars - Poison and Wine lyrics Image - Artist Unknown 
incendiary by Vernon Scannel That one small boy with a face like pallid cheese And burnt-out little eyes could make a blaze As brazen, fierce and huge, as red and gold And zany yellow as the one that spoiled Three thousand guineas' worth of property And crops at Godwin's Farm on Saturday Is frightening---as fact and metaphor: An ordinary match intended for The lighting of a pipe or kitchen fire Misused may set a whole menagerie Of flame-fanged tigers roaring hungrily. And frightening, too, that one small boy should set The sky on fire and choke the stars to heat Such skinny limbs and such a little heart Which would have been content with one warm kiss Had there been anyone to offer this. Even though these are not my words I would like to take a moment and think about what kind of people we creat through our own actions and hatred. To anyone who has been victimized by anyone they trusted, to the children and families in the recent PSU scandal...I fear for what is becoming of not only our nation but our world.  Winter Trees The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve. On their blotter of fog the trees Seem a botanical drawing. Memories growing, ring on ring, A series of weddings. Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery, Truer than women, They seed so effortlessly! Tasting the winds, that are footless, Waist-deep in history. Full of wings, otherworldliness. In this, they are Ledas. O mother of leaves and sweetness Who are these pietas? The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.  I try to do things with grace and dignity. I want to be a more patient, loving, thoughtful person to all of the people I encounter daily. Not just my family or coworkers, but the person that bags my groceries, or the person trying to merge into my lane of traffic. It isn't always easy and more often than not my ugliness rears its head and "Psycho Brook" enters the stage. I have often heard that there are types of people that are like sandpaper. They are around to polish and bring forth the beauty that lyes within us, but I wonder...am I the "sandpaper"? I don't want to be the sand paper. Unless I am my own sandpaper, which in that case polish, polish, polish until the sandpaper is smooth and my inner self is at peace. I want all of my layers and colors to be seen unclouded and true. Let the water wash over me and bring forth only that which is pure and good. Life is too short to focus on the negative. Find the good in every situation and be a happier person.  photo by: Reimar Gaertner |
