Lamenting the hundreds of stories I never published

I sat with my feet in the pool, trying to cool down my ankles and calves after an intense interval workout. I tried to relax, reading a compilation of fantasy and short stories. One of the stories reminded me of something I was going to write a long time ago. I dreamed it up and even wrote down an outline for it. Then I remembered another story I started writing but never finished many years ago. I even had a journal full of nothing but story ideas that was lost at a Barnes and Noble coffee shop fifteen years ago. It pisses me off when I see a movie released based on one of the ideas in that journal. So many stories that I never wrote, and my great regret will be dying having never told them in a way that only I can. These stories are in my mind, as real as a dream that you can’t wake up from but no one has heard them.

When I was a little girl, I’d come up with a story and start writing. I’d just write to write and oftentimes, my teachers couldn’t wait to see what I’d come up with. I’d turn a mundane writing assignment into an out of the box fantasy with monsters, parallel universe travel, curses and dreams that come to life.

In the seventh grade, it all ended. I had a teacher who saw no merit in fantasy and horror and she put down everything I wrote. I tried to appease her by writing something with a well thought out, realistic theme but none of my themes were good enough for her. After all, I was just thirteen years old. What could I teach her old, jaded soul?

No one knew what she wanted. A classmate complained that she didn’t know what to write. I asked her, “What do you like to read?”

“Mysteries,” she said.

“So write a mystery.”

“She won’t let me. Mysteries don’t have meaning.”

I just gave her a look of helplessness. What else could I do? I trusted my teachers and saw them as a great authority. I didn’t realize yet that one person’s opinion doesn’t have to mean so much. For every one person who doesn’t like mysteries or horror novels, there are thousands of raving fans.

When I look back, I keep seeing the seventh grade as the time when writer’s block became chronic. Never before that time did I have to question my inspirational ideas. I simply wrote whatever I wanted. I can’t blame my teacher. I allowed her to do this to me. If she hadn’t done it, someone else would have stepped in and played the critic.

We think we need to learn the rules of the game and we want to gain more knowledge as we grow up. We try to be the person the experts tell us we should be, but at some point, we end up looking for that child deep down inside who wasn’t afraid to create something. We want to be that playful sprite that took joy in her craft, before it was her duty to fulfill a role and follow the rules of convention.

“Fireflies” was a sordid piece, my attempt at screwing all people who wanted me to write something scholarly and civil. I’m amazed at how easily it sold. Then I published “Enlightened Ones” because it was a story that meant something to me, something I had to sweat blood to write.

But there’s still the day job and the responsibilities at home and I can’t live in a world of fiction all the time. And maybe that is also my fault. I wanted to have a career outside of writing to fall back on and most of the time, that career has taken first priority. After all, one must provide for one’s own

When reading the biography of Walt Disney, I’m amazed at how much debt he was willing to go into just to make his dreams into a reality. Through the depression and WWII, his studio struggled, yet he still went all out and spared no expense to be the first cartoonist to use music, the first cartoonist to make his cartoons talk, the first cartoonist to make his animations move fluidly, the first man to make a movie with surround sound, the first man to make an animated feature film and so much more. Disney owed money for two decades or more but he never succumbed to mediocrity, even though cheap cartoons were more economical. Due to the changing times, many great classics like Fantasia, Bambi and Sleeping Beauty turned out to be commercial failures. Yet, no animated creation could match those films for another forty or fifty years.

Walt Disney followed his passions no matter how many people around him told him to cut back. We all need someone like Disney, someone who seems to be a dreamer but in reality, it’s our insecurities and our slavish choice to put boundaries on ourselves that isn’t real.

Just the other day a friend of mine said, “And as I'm sure you realize, taking everybody else's advice isn't the way to greatness.” He’s so right. Why do we live, trying to be someone else’s vision of what we should be? People create formats and roles for life, for writing, for art. It’s the great pioneers who shatter these formulas, break down those boundaries and shock us with something greater than anything they could ever imagine.

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable it is nor how it compares with any other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You don’t even have to believe in yourself and your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.” –Martha Graham, dancer and choreographer

Random Rambling, total diarrhea of my keyboard on war, humans and the earth

I haven't had the time to write much and tonight, I just have too. It's like diarrhea of the mind. I can't sleep without puking something out on paper. It's mostly due to the fact that I watched the news.

Rapes being covered up. Wars being fought over religion, people getting caught in drive by shootings and others killing their own family members. Why, who knows?

Just a while ago it occurred to me that much of my conditioned beliefs may be due to the fact that it’s what the people who conquered my people believed. Makes it sound different doesn't it? Why do you believe in the Bible? Because it’s what the people who conquered our people told us to believe... and so many cultures were destroyed due to uprisings. I have a soft spot for indigenous cultures, for Shamans who knew which plants could heal anything, and we killed their culture, allowing their secrets to die with them. 

Here in Los Angeles, I have neighbors who are Muslim, Hindu, Christian, Buddhist and Pagan. If we can live in harmony, why can't the people fighting in the Middle East? 

Why do we have this need to always separate and dominate, divide and conquer?

Why can't we see the beauty in each other? Why can't we learn from one another? Why can't we find similarities? Why do we insist on hate? Why do we resist forgiveness? Why do we kill each other, rape each other, orphan our children, separate families and enslave each other all in the name of honor or God?

I remember when the oil spill happened. My son came to me and said, "Turtle’s are dying."  I said, "Humans are dying.  Everything dies."

"No," he said, "Turtles are dying out because of the oil spill"

I said, "That's sad.  Where did you learn about this?"

He said, "I heard it on the news and I wanted to cry because I love turtles."

You see, turtles are his favorite animal.  I told him it made me sad too and truly, it does.  

I can be the most stoic person in the world.  I once heard a bullet whiz by my head while walking home in a gang neighborhood.  I went home and went straight to bed.  My next door neighbor's bedroom got shot up and I slept right through it but tell me about the turtle's dying out and the oceans being polluted and our lonely soldiers still out their fighting battles they may never have bargained for and I get all teary eyed.  Things do make me sad, whether I show it or not.  Sometimes I have to be the strong one so I won't show a thing.  Sometimes there is too much work to be done to show emotion but it doesn't mean I don't feel anything.

I hear people say all the time that it won't matter in the future.  In the future, we will leave what is left of the earth and populate outer space.  In the future, we may not have any choice.  We will make synthetic food and simulate gravity so our bones won't atrophy.  

But I wonder, if all other life is dead, where on earth are we going to get the resources to make all of these synthetic foods and vitamins?  Maybe I shouldn't say where on earth.  Either way, we'll be alright.  We'll seek out new lives and new civilizations, away from the oceans and the trees and the billions of different life forms that once shared our home.  Either way, if this happens, I'll sure miss the earth.

People quote Jurassic Park all the time. They tell me that the earth will be fine. Don't worry about the earth. It's the people who will die out. And who cares about the people, right? After all we've done, why are we worth saving? 

I find this to be a lame excuse not to be responsible for our environment. I love the earth. I love the trees, grass, mountains and beaches. I love the streams and lakes, the animals, the life that lives and breathes around me.

In my own lifetime, I've seen my lovely earth polluted, destroyed, blown up, cut down, etc. 

I've seen animals disappear from existence. How many paradises have I seen paved down to put up a parking lot? It breaks my heart. It’s not just about saving the earth for humans. It's about saving something I love. As long as I'm here, I want the earth to be okay. I want to take care of it. It's part of me. Without the living, breathing sky, earth and water. Without the birds, insects, fish, whales, everything, I feel desolate and utterly alone.

What is True Beauty?

What is true beauty? I always thought of it as an illusion. When I was a teenager I figured out the pretty thing. I learned what society deemed was attractive. I dieted, exercised, got thin. Then I learned the subtle magic of makeup. I learned to paint my face as an artist paints his canvas. I learned what glamour truly was. It was glimmer, sparkles, a flattering dress, a wink, a slight tilt of the head, just the right pose and smile. It was a magic. It wasn’t necessarily the magic of beauty but the magic of being able to manipulate something into seeming beautiful and use that illusion to one’s advantage. I always think back to that time as the time I blossomed, the time when the awkward nerd became pretty. But it wasn’t that at all. I just figured out the game of beauty and how it worked. I still wore sun glasses and pajamas too school when I felt like it, but if I wanted to look smoking hot, I could pull it off. Anyone can.

According to Celtic folklore, faeries are magical creatures that live in the woods. They have all kinds of magical abilities called faery glamour. But what they are best at is creating illusions, playing tricks on humans, and tempting them into a world of intoxication where time has no influence. When anyone mentions faery glamour, I think of human glamour. I think air brushing, photo shopping, plastic surgery, hair dressing, fashion and everything else that makes an ordinary person look extra ordinary.

Women work very hard trying to look like fashion models, until one day they realize that no one looks like a fashion model. Not even fashion models look like fashion models. That point is well made in this video:

And this one:

This need for beauty is puzzling to me. Marketing experts, advertising experts and even motivational experts espouse the power of glamour. Make something look pretty and people follow. It doesn't matter what you’re selling, but the down side is this horrible sense of insecurity that comes with being targeted with beauty. You start to want something that doesn’t exist and when you realize it was never real, it leaves you feeling empty. When the glimmer and lights fade away, you’re left with the drab and boring truth. It was all an illusion.

There’s a great car commercial where a smoking hot girl starts off a drag race and it takes you through the ride of your life. You want to be in that car. You think if you buy that car, you’ll get to win that race and get the girl. So you buy the car and you are so ecstatic. But after a while, you realize that you spent all that money on a vehicle that will take you from place to place. That’s it. Drag races are illegal. You’ll get a speeding ticket or risk the reality check of a car accident if you speed,  and just because you have that car, it’s not an automatic ticket to getting the girl. Now what? The faery dust has worn off. Time to move on to the next big thing. After a while all that beautiful stuff society told you to buy becomes like a prison in itself and you end up like that guy in the book and movie "Fight Club"

I always thought it was one big lie and even felt a bit cynical and bitter towards the masses for falling for it. Many years back, it inspired me to write this verse:

There’s a world of people

Who laugh in darkness,

In peeping walls

Of empty starkness,

Then beauty comes

And flashes its strength

Over the masses

And blinds them forever

To truth,

To decay,

And dies as fast

As it comes their way.

As I grow wiser in my years, I have learned to see past the smoke and mirrors. I ask myself, what is real beauty? I start to find myself a bit repulsed by the glamour, the lights, the pretty words, the pictures that are used to make me feel something, buy something or like something.

As I grow older, my children age, my friends and family go through poverty, illness, ups and downs and I’m starting to realize that if I can still see the beauty in all of these things, then maybe I won’t feel empty and disappointed by the glamour people try to escape into. True beauty, I think, is truth. It’s gratitude. It’s looking at something that hasn’t been photoshopped and loving it anyway. It’s feeling that sense of pride in what is imperfect. It’s compassion. It’s meaning. It’s realizing that nothing is permanent and appreciating all the little moments.

There is an old Native American story about a Chief who is dying. He summons his three greatest warriors and tells them that the one who can bring back the most beautiful object will become the new Chief.

The first warrior sees the brightest and most beautiful flower. He brings it back to the chief but once he arrives, the flower is withered.

The second warrior sees a shimmering rock at the bottom of a stream which catches his eye. He brings it back to the chief but once it arrives, the shimmer is gone because the stone is no longer in the water.

The third warrior sees a magnificent sunset over the mountains. He goes back to the chief shaking his head. He tells the chief that he did see the most beautiful thing in the world but he couldn’t bring it back. The sunset could not be moved, nor could it be frozen in time.

The chief tells the man that he learned the most important lesson of all. You can’t bottle true beauty and expect it to last forever. Because he understood this truth, the third warrior was chosen to be the Chief.

So love all the little things whether or not they are perfect, then everything will look beautiful.

Ode to Nature

I had the morning off, so instead of looking at a computer screen while eating breakfast, I put on some meditation music, gazed out my window and skimmed through a book of haikus.

I had an old nostalgic feeling of what it was like to be young and so amazed by the world, of walking over a bridge and getting lost in the sparkles of the water, of delighting in the way a grasshopper wrung its hands or the way a leaf gently floated to the grass. I miss the long nature walks I used to take, only to stop in my tracks to write a poem.

These days, I spend a lot of time in front of my computer, networking with people I used to see in person. I’m fascinated by a picture or link on the internet and I laugh at funny jokes people post. Have I traded some of my silent time for this? Have I stopped writing poetry and gazing at sunsets so I can boggle my mind with gifs and jpgs and other such things? Have I forsaken long talks, while sitting on the curb for short banters with people online who could leave at any time? It does change a lot. No more long goodbyes. Just stop typing.

I have to remind myself of the joy that stillness brings me. I have to remember what it’s like to be in the moment and just appreciate what’s right in front of me. A slant of light in my study space, the way dust floats in the air, the way my dog licks its paws. These are the little things that bring peace, joy and contentment. I have to remember that I don’t have to be moving and striving all the time. I can stop and rest and revel in what I have now.

If I get envious when I look at a child playing in the meadow or an old man just sitting there, smiling at the sun, I know it’s time to stop and smell the roses. Love, art, music, peace and reverie can only happen in the now. There is not time like the present. There’s nothing more beautiful than what’s right in front of you.

Why it Sucks to be Psychic

            Another T.V. show came about a psychic little girl. Why is the government always going after psychic people? Does the government really care about that? I’d like to know if there are really government agencies that specialize in capturing or genetically creating psychic individuals for the sake of national security. Seems to me there are more important things to worry about, like unemployment and the war on terror. Yet, in all these stories, the poor psychic people just want to be left alone. Damn you government. Just leave the poor psychics alone!

            

In my opinion, the government could give a crap about psychic people. If you’re psychic, that’s your problem. Lately, I was thinking that there are a lot of good reasons to not want to be psychic.

Reason 1: The government will be after you. Who wants to spend a lifetime running from the Feds?

Reason 2: You can hear people thinking. People spend all this energy blocking out the wrong kind of people and filtering out songs, commercials, or remarks that they don’t want to hear. But psychics can hear all the little thoughts that most people are supposed to keep to themselves. All the little snide remarks that were not meant for your ears are out in the open. I guess if you have been hearing that kind of unfiltered material all your life, you learn to accept it. Still, no one can pretend to be someone else around you and you learn quickly that everyone lies. Also, if someone has an annoying song in their head, you’re screwed.

Reason 3: You can see the future. This sucks more than it seems. Just think of all the Greek tragedies that involve man vs. destiny. “Oedipus Rex” is one of them. A man spends all his life doing everything he can to avoid a prophesy from taking place. In the end, he learns that everything he did to avoid his future, only caused it to happen after all. Knowing the future has all kind of weird implications. There was a Greek prophet named Cassandra whose curse was that no one would ever believe her. No matter what she did, she could not change the future. People don’t believe psychics and if they did, they rarely have the ability to stop bad things from happening. You either have to accept the future or become a basket case trying to change it. By the way, I can see the future and if you want to know what happens, read this past post:

http://laceyreah.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-can-see-future.html

Reason 4: Romance is dead. It’s very hard to fall in love the way they do in the movies when you can hear people thoughts and you can see the future. There is a vampire novel where a mortal girl falls in love with a vampire because he’s the only one whose thoughts she couldn’t read. But, in a world where no vampires exist, just psychic people, you’re stuck knowing every plan your lover has in store for you. It kind of ruins the surprise. I can see how a psychic person would turn off their power if they could, just so they could experience something they didn’t see coming. The feeling of exhilaration from something new or unexpected is impossible to get if you’re psychic.

Reason 5: You feel other people’s pain. Being a strong empath is the hardest thing. You feel other people’s pain. The good thing is you feel their joy too. But most people hide their pain behind smiling eyes and every empath knows that pain is more prevalent than we want to believe. An empath learns to live with pain like it’s some sort of congenital or chronic disease. They carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

In conclusion, psychic people have enough problems of their own. I hope the government will leave them alone. You can’t force people to be weapons of mass destruction. People are people and psychic people are people too. Of course there are a lot of benefits to being psychic like winning the lottery but that’s cheating. You can make other people do things by controlling their minds, but that is unethical because it interferes with their free will. Good guys aren’t allowed to use their psychic power. It’s only great if you’re an evil villain.  So, in the end, it sucks to be a psychic good guy.  ;)

My First Heartbreak

I found this old poetry book I wrote when I was in high school. I never published it, but I was amazed at how good some of the poems were and how bad the others were. I couldn't help noticing how hard I took my first heartbreak. It made for some great poetry. I must warn you that I was never an apple pie teenager. I saw some dark things at a young age. I'm probably more of a rosy cheeked, easy go lucky person now than I was as a kid.

Broken Heart

Now all my fears are clouded by the pain,
And day by day I wonder through the years,
Pondering wirling riddles all in vain.
Oh, could I ever ever love again!
When once my life was happiness and bliss,
Now nothing can undo this heavy strife.
His tender kiss and soothing words I miss
And long the warming comfort of his lips.
Through empty streets of doleful thoughts I roam
With heavy tears I drown my nightly sheets.
I fill the hollow streets with woeful moan
And wonder if I'll ever find a home.
I plod with grief and anguish through the rain,
as stormy winds blow through the winter leaves.
What happy thought could overtake the shame.
How could I ever ever love again?
--Lacey Reah

Solitude

Now wearied by distress my loved ones bring,
Yet knowing what distress I bring them too,
I'll ask them not for one more joyful thing,
And seek a world that's cold but plainly true.
I'll occupy myself in study's might
And substitute my friends with greedy goals,
without the pain of a true lover's fright,
who knows not when to rage or when to hold.
I'll turn from love of love to love of feat,
And lust for only what myself achieve,
To never know what strangers I may meet,
Lest they may touch my soul where it can bleed.
For if I ever look back on my youth,
On smiles, on tears, sweet friendships there will be.
In them was too much depth and too much truth,
And too much love, though not deserved by me.

So its becoming obvious that one of my main influences was Shakespeare, but its plainly obvious in the poem below, how often I read Poe.

I Fear No More The Coming of the Night

I fear no more the coming of the night,
Nor dread in shadows what may lie,
And all that once would fill me with affright,
Like mysteries that clung unknown,
Now draw me in with all their dark delight
Until to me their shown.

I fear no more the creatures that may peep,
From their bleak abodes of blackness,
That once would vex and ward me from my sleep,
With their lingering tales of yore.
I follow them into their caverns deep,
Until they be no more.

I fear no more what glaring eyes of hate,
May lurk behind a suave facade,
Or ghastly things that rage and curse my fate,
With their fiendish spell charms of old.
I quell their plagues before all is too late,
Their spells through darkness told.

Now, when I find a place that holds no light,
Surrounded by impending gloom,
I retreat not but seek out all its might,
To find when greeted by the sun,
The break of day is but the close of night,
When all the seeking's done.

Is World Peace Possible?

            When I was a little girl, my parents worked so I spent my summers with friends. I used to hang out with a family of three siblings. They often had their cousins and other friends come over. I was the quiet and watchful one. I often watched the dynamic of their bickering and disagreements. I remember coming over one day, only to find that the entire group had ganged up on one kid. They immediately asked me to join their side but I stood there and shrugged. They went on to belittle the little boy and ostracize him. I had seen this happen a lot on the playground. If the ostracized child was smart, he’d recruit his friends and start an all out battle. If not, he would just get bullied. I couldn't help noticing how easy it was to recruit kids to one side. Children, I found, wanted to belong to a group. It gave them something to be proud of and fight for. Yet, it seemed, I was always an outside observer. Even when coerced to join a side, I never felt like I was part of it. I always felt sorry for both sides and if it was just one kid being picked on, I always felt sorry for him and often defended him.

Already, I could see the writer being born in me. I had this uncanny aversion to be like everyone else and just be a part of a group. I chose to observe and I often I didn't like what I saw. Humanity, it seemed to me, had no hope. It was just the powerful or the manipulative choosing sides and doing what they could to put down the other. There were no anti bullying campaigns when I was growing up. We were taught that this was just the way of life. No one talked about it. It just was.

I saw that there was a difference between playground play, just fighting for fun or playing rugby or bull rush in the field and the true fight for power. It happened when one person insulted the other, often in an innocent way. But for some reason, the other person takes it bad and turns against that person. They get friends to back them up and form alliances. This is what malicious gossiping is all about. A fist need not be thrown. A person can be defeated by ruining their reputation; turning their friends against them and making them feel completely defenseless and alone.

The person who is ostracized may not have done anything intentional to receive this treatment. Maybe they simply had the wrong skin color, or had a different view point of religion. Either way, I see it happening everywhere. I see it happening on the internet. Groups are formed by people of like minds but if someone sees things a bit differently, they are ostracized and told to leave. They say the internet is supposed to bring the world together but I have only see more groups being formed, more communities of like minded people keeping those who have other beliefs out. And of course I see it happening in wars, in riots, in protests, in fights, gangs and all forms of violence. To this very day, I still see it happening and it still bothers me. As we speak, there are people getting blown up, prisoners of war being tortured, fights and riots breaking out, etc. The world has never known peace. There has always been war, and people like me who sadly observe these things have always existed. Writers, philosophers and peace activists have been around since the dawn of history. Many exist today, spreading the word through peaceful protest, religion, charity or social reform, yet there has been no end to war.

Some say religion is to blame. They say that when we form strong beliefs about God or right or wrong, it makes us feel morally obligated to fight those who don’t believe the same things. So we form sides and wars break out. I question this assertion but I must say that I have seen issues with beliefs. Almost all religions have a taboo, something that you are not supposed to touch or talk about. Often, what is sacred in one religion is taboo in another. You have one religion that sees pork as a delicacy and another who is against touching or eating it. They both see each other as gross, backwards or insane. While civil rights is seen as status quo in the laws that govern nations such as the United States, other countries are still mired in segregation. There are certain classes of people you aren’t even supposed to touch. How can the world get along when we all have such differing viewpoints?

Still, I don’t think religion is the problem. I have seen atheists also form sides for one reason or another. I’ve known people who don’t believe in God who have strong agendas to get believers to stop believing and they have also formed their own groups of people who feel the same way. China is an atheist government who does not believe in religion, yet they are suppressing the Tibetans. So the religious and anti religious will continue to bicker. It seems to me, that it is still something deeply rooted in human nature. Beliefs go beyond religion. Sometimes, it’s just how we were raised that form our beliefs and when we grow up and find out that other people were raised differently, we’re total shock. I remember my college roommates fighting over whether to plug up the sink or not. They just couldn't believe that the other person would think differently. Again, I just sat there wondering why people fight over things so petty.

In my observations, I have found that having an agenda makes people proud. It gives us meaning to push some kind of idea on to another person. People form identities around what they do and who they are. Pride makes them feel powerful. If they study yoga, they consider themselves yogis. If they study cross fit, they are hard core athletes. If they have an advanced education, they are intellectuals. If they are religious, they are people of God. If they are creative, they are artists. People love to be something and advertising campaigns feed on this psychological need by creating cult followings out of product names. Of course, those of us on the outside shrug our shoulders and just say, “They drank the coolaid.” Maybe pride is the real culprit.

In truth, cults are everywhere and they can be harmless or harmful. Most religions say that humans are special, that we are the greatest creation of God. Yet, many religions also preach humility. Buddhism even tells us to renounce all identity. Yet, if we do that, we could hardly call ourselves Buddhists. Of course this brings on more taboos. In some religions you are not even allowed to mention the name of God or even try to fathom what he/she wants. In others, you should pray to his/her very name. No wonder we bicker.

Some religious people are very peaceful. They say that god just wants love and peace. Yet, many religious texts such as The Bible, The Koran and the Bhagvad Gita show that war has always existed and that God often creates war for his own reasons. We are not to try to understand what those reasons are. It disturbs us, yes, but we have to trust that this is God’s way. There is a part in the Bhagvad Gita that says, “If the slayer thinks he slays or the slain thinks he is slain, he knows not the truth.” In this text and in many others, God goes on to say that war and destruction is part of the ongoing cycle of life and worlds, countries, communities and lives will be destroyed. But in a way, we are already dead because everyone dies. Some of the greatest ancient religious texts are epics of war. In many religions, one who fights and dies in the name of God is doing him the greatest service. The polytheistic Gods of old often fought wars among themselves for power. How could we expect humans to be any better?

This is what I’ve gleaned from reading so many religious texts, in my mission to understand my confusion about war and violence. The only thing I’ve learned from God is that we can only change what we can and accept what we can’t. In a passage in the Bible, Jesus was asked when the kingdom of heaven will come. He answered that we shouldn’t think of it as a time and place. He said that the kingdom of heaven is within us. The Buddha also said that the heaven we seek is in our own hearts.

Science itself shows us that worlds are created and destroyed in the span of millenniums. Even the sun will die and so will we. When we look at it all from this scope, does it matter that we are constantly loving each other yet destroying each other at the same time? Is this just the way of nature?

I won’t be the first to say that war, hatred, and violence disturbs me and makes me question the universe in the deepest of ways. I can’t say I have any answers for the questions I have for God, science or philosophy. All I can say is that as an artist, I can choose to accept life for what it is. I can choose to draw, write and record it. I can revel in its beauty and see depth in its ugliness. In a way, art is a type of religion where we can be sad, happy, angry and distraught but still have some kind of out. We are all just peons, surviving a life of impermanence. I may not see world peace in my lifetime but I can choose to find peace within myself.