People tell me things can’t be done all the time, few offer solutions with their opinions.

People tell me things can’t be done all the time, few offer solutions with their opinions.

 

 

If I was to stop and believe that things were impossible then I would have very little success. Worse still I would have no motivation to accept the issue, nor the support to perceive it as a challenge.

 

There is no song unwritten, no canvas yet stretched that contains contemp. As an artist, a business owner I have to believe that, as a parent I have to demonstrate it.

 

As I look back at my childhood, I want to say I was one of the very fortunate to have a parent so involved in art, it would seem this time of year those memories seem to fit in so well. There would be days where I would walk in from school and the whole front room was a “Moms” project, from quilts to doll houses or a simple painting she owned the house, and any spare time she would manipulate you out of.

 

There were two things I learned never to say while working on those projects, I don’t know how; which would lead to a journey into the library where art books abound.

 

The other was “I had a problem”; these always lead to a lecture about challenges and two solutions. “For every problem there is at least two solutions, your problem find your solution.”

 

Setting here writing this I wonder if more than half of them art projects were a way she could show me those very truths.

Humbling isnt it.

I have found my adventures in anger are most times very dangerous. I believe that even justified anger ought to be left to those better qualified to handle it.

Of passions

Passion is a wish in your heart unbound, unaltered, A dream in your head unattainable, unchanged.

Desires????

Of desire the temptress, chained to the spirit of flesh, of scents, it is her you dance with as you splurge your coins. Her comfort is in her disguise as she bends the ear of your thought. Long has she danced in your mind using your vanity as a drum.

Time

Time is an entity that has no dimensions, alone it stands between the protons, its journey begins. It travels no distance yet is found every where. It has no color, no character, no vice, yet it is treasured and detested by all. It has no beginning, no end yet it is never challenged. It can not be an element for it has no weight. Yet its passing is marked, assured of it taxes to calculations it is applied, the forecast of which you are surely given measure.

 

Alas it is counted for it is but a life form with a steady beat as if of a drum.

On Youth

How quickly does a child forgive, or share? How warm is the smile and hurtful the tear.

How I envy the days of the wonders of youth.

The case against Baby Boomers?

The case against Baby Boomers?

 

Its so funny to be coined that, Baby Boomers owe an apology to everyone whether about the economy or about the many other forms of Gluttony and Greed.

 

I like it when people start to say something about us. Remember we were the ones carrying signs and yelling about Love not war, we had big aspirations and even bigger expectations. We were the ones that wanted to change everything.

 

Baby Boomers, where the first to turn in their signs for a suit and tie. Sure there were a many good things that came from us, Alas there are many more we are responsible for. Our Stewardship was forgotten just like the colors we loved.

 

The pendulum of our youth and liberal ways, for some were a reason to change as we struggled to find a way to provide for ourselves, this created the development of the conservative lines we today still push at everyone, thus our folly. We have turned even the term liberal into something that is feared and hated. Traitors to our own youthful desires, far are they hidden deep in a closet, removed for public eye like a stained shirt. Most of us were a conservative badge in place of our desire for change.

 

We have taken our lot in life and urbanized our farms, shut our factories, and became a land of consumers. Pray tell how we can offer a thing to the next generation but our debt, a debt that is more than the economy. Our focus now is about our little TV’s and that glass of wine as we await our room at the senor homes.

 

Of those of us who did not sell our signs, we struggle to sell our art, our words, our deeds. I hold little hope until our honesty is restored. I for one still have my keep on truckin T-shirt and will cut my hair in view of St. Peter, least I too become a traitor of my youth.