How often are you the first among your friends to try something new?
What do you want people to know most about you?
It's the human condition, in each moment -- where we are always on the edge of uncertainty, faced with the unanswerable questions of these contemporary times. Art, to me, is a means of expressing this not-knowing, this complexity, this all pervasive ambiguity is the wellspring of creativity as well as creation. Does it come from within, or from without? To me it feels that the source of creativity knows neither inside, nor outside. I have found only one way of tapping into the source, and that is by letting-go.
Getting your message was like hearing from a ghost. I never thought I'd hear from you again. I went to SF a few years ago and was in North Beach thinking I might see you having a coffee at the Trieste. Life takes many surprising turns.
IT IS THE THING ITSELF, NOT OUR IDEAS ABOUT IT, NOR ITS NAME: OR -THE UNKNOWN TEMPLE JOURNEY-
THIS CLIMB BEGAN YEARS BEFORE
ALONG THE PATH ON THE HILL-SIDE
LEADING TO THE TEMPLE-GROUNDS
ALTHOUGH I KNEW WHERE I WAS GOING
I NEVER KNEW IF I WOULD GET THERE
AND THROUGH THE YEARS IT HAPPENED
IN FACT IT HAPPENED MANY TIMES
MANY TIMES I HAD FORGOTTEN
FORGOTTEN WHY IT IS I'D COME
IT'S HARD TO RETRACE STEPS OF A JOURNEY
TO THE TIME AND PLACE IT HAD BEGUN
REMEMBERING IS MIND MOVING BACKWARDS
LIKE LOOKING EAST FOR THE SETTING SUN
IT MIGHT WELL BE THAT I'M MISTAKEN
I'VE SPOKEN TO NO ONE FOR SO LONG
ONE MAY THINK THAT WOULDN'T MATTER
IF THAT ONE HAD NEVER BEEN ALONE
SO LIKE I SAY I LEFT ALL MY FRIENDS
AND I LEFT BEHIND FAMILY BACK HOME
I TOOK TO THE PATH OF A MOUNTAIN
THROUGH THE DUST IN SANDALS I ROAMED
'TILL I ARRIVED AT THE GATES OF THE TEMPLE
MY FEET WERE BLEEDING AND I WAS GASPING FOR AIR
AT THE GATES I WAS MET BY A QUESTION
FROM A FUNNY LOOKING MAN WITH NO HAIR
HE ASKED, "MY SON WHAT IS IT THAT BRINGS YOU?"
AND POINTING TO MY BLOODY FEET I SAID, "THERE!"