When the art is not lost

I want to see things more.  I want to see more things.  In places where there is not enough municipal clout to incessantly paint over graffiti, its easy to notice art that has not been lost in the mix.  In the age of facebook, tumblr and a million options for wigging out on some narcissistic advertisement of your art, its refreshing to absorb someone's work of which I will never know the artist's name.  They do this without recognition or respect, and their art is not lost.   

About leaning and loafing

Walt Whitman started what would become one of the most loved and hated collections of poetry in American history with the words, “I loafe and invite my soul.”  Right now, I am leaning and loafing.... at my ease observing a green-covered hillside backlit by one of the bluest skies I have ever seen.  What is in front of me is not necessarily beauty.  These rusted tin roofs, broken electrical lines and the colorful array of ragged clothes hanging on a clothesline would never make the cover of National Geographic.  But something about the smoke from the tortillerias, the ominous clouds carrying earth’s most precious assets, and the unfinished buildings of shotty concrete construction across from me… something about these things makes me feel alive.  I invited my soul – or maybe my soul invited me – into this world, and now that I’m here I just feel so alive. Maybe that’s what true living is, checking the RSVP box on your soul’s invitation to life, saying yes to sinking, drowning in a world of your soul and your self.  Leaning and loafing in there, that’s what I’m living.