11 November 2007

An excerpt from my all time favorite writer, thinker, and kindred spirit, George Sibley. He and I share a valley, and this is one of the most poetically honest self evaluations i have ever encountered.....

"But that day up the Slate River helped me think about it. I saw how cold the coming night was, but also how beautiful. For the time being, the parts of me that feel the cold and the parts of me that see the beauty are still bound up in this concatenation of contradictions generally known as me. An occasionally interesting but often tedious writer, an iconoclast whose unique visions are damped down to negligible by an unaccountable sense of personal inferiority, a 65-year-old orphan who never felt like a father even when he became one, a sometime teacher who hates discipline and “rigor,” an almost, a not-quite — I’ve begun to really appreciate the observable truth of the compost pile: that matter and energy are constant; that the assemblage of matter and energy into forms like me is often interesting but always imperfect; that what is ultimately important is the fact that every iota of matter and energy gets a lot of opportunities."

I'm busy on a large canvas of my "home range", as i have begun to call it. I have two easels going, so i may squeeze a daily in here soon.

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