time is art, life is art. what will be left is the things we touched and created with our minds and hands. a hardened earth of expression for our always-has-been temporary visit. i know i shall miss this place when i journey, and the things i touched will make their rounds until they turn to dust. who i met and who remembers me will one day also be dust. like the first handwritten bill of sale. our souls are recording and when we go where we are gonna go, our consciousness will play back our consciousness and see the things we couldnt see before, and see how it formed what had become. our spirits will recognize what was the role we agreed upon and what distortions were meant to unravel. activate the knowledge of contructs in every thought and interaction from the base constructs to the complex prejudices. witness the interaction of projection with emotional upheaval. touch being. deconstruct perception as a whole, not just wrong or right. the past is a way of memory, subject to perception, subject to paradigm. the future is a vision and a compass rose but in the way we percieve time, it has not happened and is not real. its all stories. and prolongued suffering.
the primary thing that we have is ourselves, our mind and our life. trust in your power to respond accurately in each moment. set down the emotions of fear of the future and pick up a tool to build something in your world that makes you feel that your life in this moment represents all that you love.
if we were to go the way of pompeii and be frozen in time, where we are, what we were doing, our homes preserved, and buried in eons of ash and sediment, and future beings-perhaps re-ourselves, dug us up, i wanna be surrounded by my paintbrushes and beautiful stones and copper wire or maybe be outside with ceramic pots and shovels and maybe by chance they will be able to resurrect some of my seed bank and rediscover medicines they thought were extinct.
