While Christmas is firmly rooted in my upbringing, I left it at home years ago. This was a solution to the stress of the holiday, and in some extreme fashion, an opportunity to reinvent the holiday and other associated events, stresses, opinions, and griefs. It was one of several items like it that was too cloudy to enjoy, too gilded to love, too wonderful to forget. Christmas mostly used to happen at my home in Southport. There was one year where it happened in my loft in St. Louis, but that was two left feet short of a disaster. Some of those weren't perfect either, like the one where the holiday shopping communication had apparently fallen to an all-time low and the gifts were so mis-appropriated that it embarrassed everyone, particularly my lil sister who drew the short end of the stick. In my early years after leaving home, being poor and having a good, hard look at materialism, Christmas and all of its seasonal eccentricities and ridiculous expectations were decidedly OUT. I did not need it, and I would not borrow it from anyone - my family, corporations, and religion all included.
Having no money to spend on anything but the essentials combined with the desire to free the mind of society's constructions, a path that characterized my mid twenties, go hand and hand. Add that to working in the Colorado hospitality industry, and you get "just another day in the neighborhood." I moved to Albuquerque, I think, after successfully deconstructing Christmas out of my existence. It was an event of expectations and anticipation - for everyone else. For me, it came and went, was enjoyed, but was not terribly important or exciting, except for the opportunity to break the norm and do something different. But this year, something changed.
I moved into a house in April that was completely furnished almost to a point of needing only to bring the clothes on my back. I moved the Art studio after several months of observing the landscape of Albuquerque, and after deciding that the volcanoes were one of its most prominent, beautiful and signifcant features. Forget the Sandia! - I would say. These ancient formations on the West side were by far more significant for their age and permanence, not to mention their metamorphosis. Their role in the realm of ancient American cultures transcended time too, and today as preserved as the Petroglyph National Monument, they bear markings as old as the Lascaux Caves and are mostly untouched by modernity. The incredible parabolic shapes of their curves speak for themselves along the western skyline, appearing as smooth as spirals and are yet made of jagged pumice. Rather than dominating their position, they sit and forever sink peacefully in their setting, once violent fiery craters. They are an example of permanent transcendence in a world of immediate gratification, and value in geno centric mechanics and functioning. Yet they would rather sit silent through thousands of years than whisper their own name even once.
I began to paint the volcanoes this year, inspired by their permanence and resounding silence, by their harboring of ancient artifacts, valued as proof of our ancestry, despite what we are. Somehow, in creating a space in my consciousness for things free of human, I have created a space for appreciation of ancient volcanoes and other silent things, where my time grows long, my life miniscule, and human constructions and whims, passing and faint. In front of all time, what is each human, anyway? Are we ants teeming upon the surface of the earth? Or are we valuable opportunities for greater entities to compete amongst each other? Can there truly be communication between sentient beings that have seen aeons pass and myself, or another psychic creature, to any positive avail? Can there be truth in such a transfer?
And then there is Christmas, arguably the most significant celebration of such an event in America, as bastardized and clueless as it may appear at times. The ants march not only to work, but to the mall, with their electonic funds cards, sending signals everywhere, in the names of love, family, and even kindness to a stranger alongside strife, grief, anger, pissiness, and resentment of the ones we are not shopping for that take our parking spots, stop shortly at yellow lights, and appear generally clueless of anyone but themselves. Yet it is remarkable that this cross-section of behavior at this single time of year appears to be only a transmutation of the normal operations of things, its gift to us that it would be more transparent, flexible, and obvious, and even encourage our better nature by some greater law set in motion at its origin: "peace on earth, good will toward men."
It took me till now to understand that this is an opportunity to all people who share this culture and this time of year amongst one another, to be mindful of all things we can perceive, and learn that the world is more complete with our mindfulness within it. Bonus: each additional mind to engage in such contributes to a greater, stronger, smarter overall population throughout the year- but that's just it. Do we just take Christmas for what its worth? Or can we use it as the true gift it is: to learn about how we are and how we should love, give, and understand one another every single day?
This year I feel humbled as the Christmas spirit has come back to me. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, the house smells of evergreens and Christmas cookies thanks to Yankee Candle, There are decorations: garlands, ornaments, and outside lights, and everyone despite the economy is grateful and giving. This weekend Travis and I made plans to watch "Toy Story" while just enjoying each others company and talking about Christmas gifts to team up on. This year, we will have Christmas together with my family as well as his, all together. It will be real.
I can't help but reflect on a very peaceful year that I have had with him, and how incredibly things have turned out for us. Is it Christmas by Karma? maybe. But its really Christmas by company. Travis, his parents, and their family do this every year, and the house is stacked with "spirit". Four boxes of decorations came out of the shed. Theres no other time of year when 4 huge storage boxes are ever required. They're even red and green, to tell them apart from any of the other singular purpose shed bins.
While I may not have inherited indigenous culture though my land rights or lived at the time when volcanoes were within the center of my sphere, I have inherited Christmas, and this is what I have that is ancient, verified, and transcendent. This is as close as I am going to get to my own personal volcano. And I shall breathe within its blessings and hold them for as long as I can throughout the coming year. Holiday Blessings to everyone, and stay present.
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love the volcanoes,
they have a georgia'o'keefe resonance to them,
perhaps the colors of the landscape lending influence to your eyes
Your pictures were like a window to your soul, the contrast in the colours was haunting and I would love to see more of your work. Thank you for this.
While Christmas is firmly rooted in my upbringing, I left it at home years ago. This was a solution to the stress of the holiday, and in some extreme fashion, an opportunity to reinvent the holiday and other associated events, stresses, opinions, and griefs. It was one of several items like it that was too cloudy to enjoy, too gilded to love, too wonderful to forget. Christmas mostly used to happen at my home in Southport. There was one year where it happened in my loft in St. Louis, but that was two left feet short of a disaster. Some of those weren't perfect either, like the one where the holiday shopping communication had apparently fallen to an all-time low and the gifts were so mis-appropriated that it embarrassed everyone, particularly my lil sister who drew the short end of the stick. In my early years after leaving home, being poor and having a good, hard look at materialism, Christmas and all of its seasonal eccentricities and ridiculous expectations were decidedly OUT. I did not need it, and I would not borrow it from anyone - my family, corporations, and religion all included.
Having no money to spend on anything but the essentials combined with the desire to free the mind of society's constructions, a path that characterized my mid twenties, go hand and hand. Add that to working in the Colorado hospitality industry, and you get "just another day in the neighborhood." I moved to Albuquerque, I think, after successfully deconstructing Christmas out of my existence. It was an event of expectations and anticipation - for everyone else. For me, it came and went, was enjoyed, but was not terribly important or exciting, except for the opportunity to break the norm and do something different. But this year, something changed.
I moved into a house in April that was completely furnished almost to a point of needing only to bring the clothes on my back. I moved the Art studio after several months of observing the landscape of Albuquerque, and after deciding that the volcanoes were one of its most prominent, beautiful and signifcant features. Forget the Sandia! - I would say. These ancient formations on the West side were by far more significant for their age and permanence, not to mention their metamorphosis. Their role in the realm of ancient American cultures transcended time too, and today as preserved as the Petroglyph National Monument, they bear markings as old as the Lascaux Caves and are mostly untouched by modernity. The incredible parabolic shapes of their curves speak for themselves along the western skyline, appearing as smooth as spirals and are yet made of jagged pumice. Rather than dominating their position, they sit and forever sink peacefully in their setting, once violent fiery craters. They are an example of permanent transcendence in a world of immediate gratification, and value in geno centric mechanics and functioning. Yet they would rather sit silent through thousands of years than whisper their own name even once.
I began to paint the volcanoes this year, inspired by their permanence and resounding silence, by their harboring of ancient artifacts, valued as proof of our ancestry, despite what we are. Somehow, in creating a space in my consciousness for things free of human, I have created a space for appreciation of ancient volcanoes and other silent things, where my time grows long, my life miniscule, and human constructions and whims, passing and faint. In front of all time, what is each human, anyway? Are we ants teeming upon the surface of the earth? Or are we valuable opportunities for greater entities to compete amongst each other? Can there truly be communication between sentient beings that have seen aeons pass and myself, or another psychic creature, to any positive avail? Can there be truth in such a transfer?
And then there is Christmas, arguably the most significant celebration of such an event in America, as bastardized and clueless as it may appear at times. The ants march not only to work, but to the mall, with their electonic funds cards, sending signals everywhere, in the names of love, family, and even kindness to a stranger alongside strife, grief, anger, pissiness, and resentment of the ones we are not shopping for that take our parking spots, stop shortly at yellow lights, and appear generally clueless of anyone but themselves. Yet it is remarkable that this cross-section of behavior at this single time of year appears to be only a transmutation of the normal operations of things, its gift to us that it would be more transparent, flexible, and obvious, and even encourage our better nature by some greater law set in motion at its origin: "peace on earth, good will toward men."
It took me till now to understand that this is an opportunity to all people who share this culture and this time of year amongst one another, to be mindful of all things we can perceive, and learn that the world is more complete with our mindfulness within it. Bonus: each additional mind to engage in such contributes to a greater, stronger, smarter overall population throughout the year- but that's just it. Do we just take Christmas for what its worth? Or can we use it as the true gift it is: to learn about how we are and how we should love, give, and understand one another every single day?
This year I feel humbled as the Christmas spirit has come back to me. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, the house smells of evergreens and Christmas cookies thanks to Yankee Candle, There are decorations: garlands, ornaments, and outside lights, and everyone despite the economy is grateful and giving. This weekend Travis and I made plans to watch "Toy Story" while just enjoying each others company and talking about Christmas gifts to team up on. This year, we will have Christmas together with my family as well as his, all together. It will be real.
I can't help but reflect on a very peaceful year that I have had with him, and how incredibly things have turned out for us. Is it Christmas by Karma? maybe. But its really Christmas by company. Travis, his parents, and their family do this every year, and the house is stacked with "spirit". Four boxes of decorations came out of the shed. Theres no other time of year when 4 huge storage boxes are ever required. They're even red and green, to tell them apart from any of the other singular purpose shed bins.
While I may not have inherited indigenous culture though my land rights or lived at the time when volcanoes were within the center of my sphere, I have inherited Christmas, and this is what I have that is ancient, verified, and transcendent. This is as close as I am going to get to my own personal volcano. And I shall breathe within its blessings and hold them for as long as I can throughout the coming year. Holiday Blessings to everyone, and stay present.
they have a georgia'o'keefe resonance to them,
perhaps the colors of the landscape lending influence to your eyes