It has been months since I have actively kept up this blog. Intended to be an outlet for my personal writings, I became ambivalent about what I was writing. Add to my ambivalence a touch of seasonal affective depression, along with the ending of a largely passionate relationship with a former girlfriend, and a plaguing sense of doubt that my artistic life had become redundant, I was running on empty. Rather than write, I chose the path of lease resistance opting to lose myself in bad television re-runs and stacks of books that went unread. I am the cliche epitome of the tortured writer and painter.
The advent of spring has re-invigorated me, even if a couple of days into it the new season, the weather is cold, damp and gray. I attribute my new surge in energy to the liberal use of Ginseng with which I lace my herbal tea, as well as the raw apple cider I drink three times a day. Then again, it could be months of associating with alternative treatment specialist like a chiropractor and an acupuncturist trying to stimulate my psycho-physical energy back breaks and needles. I am not sure if this is modern day quackery but I feel better just the same.
I have identified that my desire to create is usually connected to whatever particular woman is in my life and has 3/4ths of my attention. Women are my primary source of inspiration. I like everything about women. A woman's movement is like dance; her speech like poetry; her figure living artistry. Even when she is wrong, a woman is right. If perfection had a name, it would be woman. This exclusive focus on women may explain why I have so few male friends.
The range of a woman's emotional inner life leaves me perplexed and unbalanced. I make no claims to understand the women I have loved, but I have been intrigued and enamored by every one. I play my part in whatever role I am consigned to play in the unfolding, ritual drama that the woman I desire creates for us. That is written as a compliment to the imaginative play of the women in my life. In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, the term for an enlightened woman is a dakini, a female yogini that literally translates to a sky dancer. It is an indication that a woman cannot be constrained by the bonds of this world.
Speaking of Buddhism, or Christianity or Hinduism for that matter, I am clearly agnostic in its original usage and meaning. I don't know but I am ever searching for the Truth. As part of my deliberations over the last several weeks, I am still committed to the whole spiritual thang. I pray and meditate, but am not sure why. I have no interest in sectarian dogmas, doctrine or creeds. I'm not bright enough to follow most of the metaphysical arguments expounded about either this or that. Like ripples in a pond, I believe the boundaries between most religious traditions are more fluid than rigid. I'm not sure I identify with any one tradition any more, so much as I can see the point most of the groups are making.
In closing, I hope to focus more on my blog, and make contributions worth reading for only the marginal few. Without a preference for any particular political, religious, or societal posture of the day, there is not much of a stance I can make. I lean towards an all inclusive general stance that all people have a right to food, shelter, medical resources. Other than that, I don't know if President Obama's health care plan is feasible. I trust that the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are no less feasible from a fiscal budgeting perspective, but the conflict is still being engaged. Why not devote a third of those resources to making sure people are healthy.
Anyway, the point of it all...I'm still here, still unfocused, still rambling without any ability to make a meaningful contribution towards anything worthwhile or serious.
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