The Collision of Magic

“The world is changed by your example, not your opinion.”

2.22.02

I’m feeling the small bits of dried paint on my hands for most of the day, these days. They remind me of what I really am, not what I think I am.

The paint tells a story of solitude, a place where what matters most is not time but what happens in those seconds where the intersections of process and effort breed, that spark that might very well burn the entire building to the ground and leave nothing but ash as the only evidence something was made, constructed….like getting a merit badge that’s just blank, for purposely, doing absolutely nothing….

While hiking  the other day on a hillside, studded with pinyon trees and high yellow grass, I came across some bones laid out in a depression, they were an intact leg. The bones were still held together by ligaments, so it was relatively new. I noticed one end appeared glossy, I reached down and gripped the end of the bone, it was very wet and slick….we had just missed each other….I listen to the sounds of the coyotes most every night, barking and yipping just 25 yards up the hill from my bedroom and often I’ll stand at the window looking for anything that appears to be one of these magic dogs. They are elusive, stealth. And that is one of the mysteries I seem to live for these days, what appears unattainable with the greater possibility that we just may run into each other one day….and that collision becomes magical

I hope your mystery is filled with great magic when you collide….

2.22.05

2.22.012.22.03

2.22.06

This is what I’m reading

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And this is what I’m listening to….

 

“You’re not rich until you have something money can’t buy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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