Convergence

Convergence1 020516

detail
convergence2 020516

Thoughts that arose while making it:
Using old ways of measuring (understanding) with new ways of being (experience). Old wine skins and new wine. Abandoning the old that no longer serves. False measurements (weights and measures) – not even allowed to have it in your house (might accidentally use it). Government enforced morality. , overt and covert. What is up and what is down? Words raining from the sky.

Ingredients:
8.5 x 12 inch Strathmore visual journal
Bought ephemera (practice ledger paper) (Asian book page) (Hell money)
Distress ink. Matte medium, glue stick.
White gel pen. Stickers of shoe prints – two kinds.
Created 2/5/16.

Poem – we are all orphans

We are all orphans, you and I,
regardless of what age we were when
our parents left us,
regardless of how
they left us,
regardless of if
they left us at all.

Thirteen or thirty makes no difference.
Death or divorce makes no difference.
The pain is the same.
The loss is just as deep,
the edges of the wound
just as jagged,
just as raw.

But we deceive ourselves
when we say
we miss
our parents,
because even when
they are alive and with us,
we still have a lack,
a feeling of loss.
Even when they are fully present
we are missing something.
We think
that when they die
we have a name for this feeling.
We call it grief.
But really we were grieving
even when they were with us.

Our lack, our loss,
is that we desire to be
One with the One.
We desire to be together
with our Heavenly Parent.
Not dead,
but fully
and totally
alive in that presence.

Just like how people who are dying,
even when they have not spoken
in days,
will cry to be home,
even when they are there
already.
It isn’t a physical address
they are longing for.
It isn’t a place.

Likewise it isn’t our earthly parents
we miss,
but our True Parent.