It always comes down to not knowing what you do not know. Choice, be it the horse or the cart be it in-or-out of a box, sets a path on which to deploy tools & skills with experience and possibilities: the scientist or the artist.
In my A.D.D. I attempt both. I achieve occasional ha ha moments, random scribbles (like this blog) and most things left at 80 percent done. If no one is looking it matters not. If it matters not, then why do anything at all? The circle comes back around to choice and the immensity of the unknown.
As we begin to forget more than we know it becomes clearer that what holds us to our own meaning is the stories we choose for our narration.
I have come to realize I have abandoned much of my story. There is a trail of names; generic (Sullivan) and pseudo names (Adele Houston) wherein anonymity provided me with a perception safety.
Suddenly, it feels urgent to make right choices, to be resurrect from the scraps of recall and seek a fuller self-knowing. Is it here that the nexus of science and art can be achieved? Or will the 1,000 words begot by an image yield noise rather than understanding?
Tonight I wanted to sit and talk with Dag Hammarskjold about futility in devoted death; and 'Markings'. The Congo is full of babies groomed in rituals of illusion. Peace keepers have been among the people since his plane crashed in 1961. Murder is a rite of passage to a kingdom of peace. Futility loudly claims this timeline in the name of Allah, not oil.
'Destiny will be measured by courage.' echoes as the standard by which silence & evil will be overcome. I always saw silence as a dance partner with evil yet I indulged in it often to survive.
My personal irony is that self-doubt did fuel courage. Acts of resistance happen but my memories are so shredded that I can barely scribble my markings.
Kindled by --- VICE Terror in the Congo HBO
