Seeds, Germs, Time, Absurd

                               
Where do germs of thought originate? How is it that tightly wrapped and packed proteins can store the information of an entire species? We view time as this linear arrow which started somewhere in darkness and will continue long after we return to the darkness, but this is not the case. There is no beginning or end to the arrow. We are riding the wave of that spectacular explosion, an explosion so powerful and hot that there was no light until things began to cool.

     

    Did that explosion contain the seed of all seeds? Was the germ of consciousness inherent in whatever it is that expanded and continued to expand? I am not convinced of the current perspectives of time and space as separate. I am not convinced that there is a beginning, middle, and end. The Greeks were known to have been the first to say that, "Man is the measure of all things."
    We are locked into our physical bodies and  much like a tree we experience inescapable periods of birth, growth, regress, blooming, and eventually, death, but even in death do we truly die?
    Perhaps our fickle mortal frames waste away, but as in the same way a tree begets a seed, and a seed a tree; do we not live on in the DNA of our seeds? What of the Harmony which orchestrates the seeds?

                                         

The Quest Continues

The void, the great unconscious, the subtle energies which permeate all consciousness. Here is where the artist sets sail.

My voyage past the veil started at a young age. A fascination with what was unsaid, unseen, yet ubiquitous. I hoisted my sails and took off toward the horizon hoping to find truth. I traveled, I meditated, and experimented with modes of consciousness. My awareness was ripped, stretched, squashed, and decimated.

It was too much for me. I had broken the veil and came face to face with the writhing, surging, all powerful and indifferent force which underlies all matter and consciousness, and I was scared. Not scared as one is of monsters under the bed, or of the darkness, but terror, true fear, of that which was at the heart of this universe, and it was not what I had wanted to see. I was too young, too naive, to truly integrate and understand my experiences.

I just dropped everything. I threw out my supplies, burned my photos, and tried to recompense and reorient by switching my education from one that was art focused, to one based and rooted in science.
 Hard facts, ratios, rationality, they became my gods. All the while that swirling void of catastrophic power whispered.

"Nothing is true, all is permitted."

It seems that now, nine years later, I am ready to set sail again. I'm bringing provisions, I'm raising the sails, and am indifferent to the time of my arrival, or return.

So lets begin at the beginning, and I hope you enjoy the journey.