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|Looking through an infinite regression of frames.|
|Mother Earth receiving.|
|A seed germinates from sunlight.|
|The canonical Big Bang.|
|Form expands into emptiness as emptiness expands into form.|
|The story expands beyond the telling...|
Competing for attention
And the flickering reality of trying to take it all in.
|The expansion could simply be opening awareness.|
|Transcending the frame is awakening?|
|The nature of nature to expand...|
|Expansion peaks and returns...|
|Contraction in the shadow of expansion.|
|Equanimity in flow. The river erodes the expansion. Looks like we are nearing the end of a cycle.|
Swept up in autumn
Colors darkening sooner
|Infinite regression of frames holding a single expansion.|
|The fruits of expansion.|
Turbulent cycle. Hard to concentrate. Unusual bangs on the tin roof of the studio amplify my anxiety. Survival planning mechanisms are spinning tall tales in my mind. The wind has stripped almost all the leaves off the trees. Fall colors are over, for sure.
This weather is interrupting my daily loop, dammit, calling for attention, showing me how small a world I live in. For example, I post this earlier than usual knowing the electric circuits might be the next loops to be rerouted, the lights just blipped, I stare at the sheets of rain, a flock of small birds flies out of control in a crazy circle, I sit down to draw but the wind's roar, rising like a passenger train headed this way, pulls me back to the window.
There is a heightened awareness being alone in situations like this that gives creative work a kind of urgency, a focus, a purpose. To witness the moments when the storm passes through, like those endless photos of flooded streets and surf jumping seawalls. Here are my emotions jumping the seawall of my rationalizing conscious mind.
Day 1 - After the storm.
We lost power early last night, just after 8pm. It was warm and the kids had been bathed so we cleaned up by flashlight and went to bed.
The wind banged into the house, wave after unsettling wave, and we noticed flashes of a strange bluish colored lightning which we later learned were arcs from exploding electrical transformers.
I went out early in the morning to survey the damage and hang out in the studio and made this drawing from residual storm energy. Grateful that we suffered no major damage and unaware of what was happening beyond my yard, I was confident everything would soon be put in order. That night, by candlelight, we fried pizza in the fireplace and read stories out loud. School is canceled for the next two days.
Day 2 - Still no power and no signs of bucket trucks.
We start to hear stories about the extent of the storm and the flooding in NYC but barely have phone service and no internet or 3G data.
It is safe to drive now and so, for a distraction, the family decides to go to the mall to shop and have lunch. I stay home to draw and tend the fire since the weather has started getting colder.
In the peace and quiet of the afternoon, I meditate, then improvise wildly with red pencil on cards, dreaming of what I am going to make for my show next year.
When the family gets home it is dark and there is still no word on when the power might come back. All we hear is "assessing the extent of the repairs". The word is that many transmission towers are damaged so even if lines are good there is no electricity to send out. Later we hear that this storm caused the greatest amount of damage the utility company had ever suffered.
We boil water on the fire for cup-of-noodles and flush the toilets with buckets. It is drizzling rain.
Because the town is without power and dark, Trick-Or-Treating is canceled.