part of the hide series
one600 polaroid camera, polaroid 600 expired film
I wish I had it in me to write and share beautiful things but all that seems far away as each day is simple bare bones and obscure decisions. I gain satisfaction from concrete actions like sorting laundry, walking, and re-organizing the house and studio. I wish my life had more poetry, more ritual, at this time but it all just seems too foggy to figure out. Other things loom for my attention.
One of the deeper experiences I am accumulating as we strive for our future home is the knowledge of how extremely hard it is to deal with incompetence. With the passionlessness of other people ~ people in authority who may hold something very dear to me without care, as if it were nothing. When I pour myself out, do everything within my power to make something happen, do everything right and then astonishingly: my all, my guts, my very fiber aren't enough. It seems like I don't matter. I could die for something and it wouldn't even leave a ripple. It feels so personal although I can't believe that it is. Yet when all the cosmos has to do is take a tiny step...why doesn't it? (Why is there so much that's wrong in general going on?)
I guess wrapped up in there as well are thoughts on the nature of desire. If I want something so bad, if it seems good and right and perfect, then how can it possibly not come to be? How can I bear that? The nagging knowledge that millions of people do have to bear it is not calming. The obvious answers are not comforting.
The nature of (im)patience. Of waiting. Of the limbo of unknowingness. Of injustice. Of questioning the nature of the cosmos. These are not new things. And yet they seem so fresh and raw to me each time I come across their familiar and infuriating personalities casting their grumpy shadows over my life.