Notes to my Father
Like a gosling, I’ve imprinted to the grid of this otherworldly realm; it’s builds, movies, stories, poems, creatures, hospitality, hostility are al facets of a collective mother force of sorts that pulls strongly on the seeker in us all. Your earth bound body-machines at work, family, and friends etc. are a little incredulous at the persistent ramblings I am begging you to speak about these new frontiers. The initial fervor has subsided somewhat but this place leaves frequent traces, thought tags, idea streams, and feverish reveries to disrupt/inspire one’s waking ruminations as much as they do in dream.
This world, like yours Father, is immense in minuscule and monumental wonders that grow ripe in both heart and mind. The transcendent majesty of art, of the imagination, of creation, has always managed to shake us free from the rigorous and stupefying dogmas of daily physical existence. Your understanding in most typical waking moments is but the slightest glimmer of the blazing eye of god, but even most of these jewels of revelation escape your notice lost as “YOU” are in the “real” world concerns of the ego-name-identity construct know as “you”. That is often the irony of art (movies, books, paintings, immersive virtual worlds) that they awaken emotional centers and pathways that allow us to more fully embrace, rejoice, cry, and laugh in our real world body-earth bound sojourn. The creations of artist, musicians, and philosophers in here have reawakened my sensitivity to the CREATION out there, and ultimately to the underlying reality that make in here/out there, me/you distinctions disappear.
Being but a babe in the hinterlands of the grid, it didn’t take long to surmise that for many this worlds possibilities are merely reflective, one cult of cookie cutter personality/environment replaced for another, yet many talented artist are here and are making novel worlds/experiences each day. And like the MotherFather gods of your world, it is from the MotherFather deities of this world that new wonders are born. The scent of all these imaginations in bloom has borne me, set me afloat as a spore on the wind, the lure of the earth and the brilliance of the stars awakens me, alive again with mystery and hope in the transformative possibilities of expression and communion.
Like a gosling, I’ve imprinted to the grid of this otherworldly realm; it’s builds, movies, stories, poems, creatures, hospitality, hostility are al facets of a collective mother force of sorts that pulls strongly on the seeker in us all. Your earth bound body-machines at work, family, and friends etc. are a little incredulous at the persistent ramblings I am begging you to speak about these new frontiers. The initial fervor has subsided somewhat but this place leaves frequent traces, thought tags, idea streams, and feverish reveries to disrupt/inspire one’s waking ruminations as much as they do in dream.
This world, like yours Father, is immense in minuscule and monumental wonders that grow ripe in both heart and mind. The transcendent majesty of art, of the imagination, of creation, has always managed to shake us free from the rigorous and stupefying dogmas of daily physical existence. Your understanding in most typical waking moments is but the slightest glimmer of the blazing eye of god, but even most of these jewels of revelation escape your notice lost as “YOU” are in the “real” world concerns of the ego-name-identity construct know as “you”. That is often the irony of art (movies, books, paintings, immersive virtual worlds) that they awaken emotional centers and pathways that allow us to more fully embrace, rejoice, cry, and laugh in our real world body-earth bound sojourn. The creations of artist, musicians, and philosophers in here have reawakened my sensitivity to the CREATION out there, and ultimately to the underlying reality that make in here/out there, me/you distinctions disappear.
Being but a babe in the hinterlands of the grid, it didn’t take long to surmise that for many this worlds possibilities are merely reflective, one cult of cookie cutter personality/environment replaced for another, yet many talented artist are here and are making novel worlds/experiences each day. And like the MotherFather gods of your world, it is from the MotherFather deities of this world that new wonders are born. The scent of all these imaginations in bloom has borne me, set me afloat as a spore on the wind, the lure of the earth and the brilliance of the stars awakens me, alive again with mystery and hope in the transformative possibilities of expression and communion.
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