Feeds:
Posts
Comments

I know that in order to survive, we do require time, activity and materials.  However, it requires even more foresight, planning,  imagination, creativity, and just plain mulishness to learn to live simply.

We are attracted to the colorful maze of materialism.  Material items we acquire accumulate in piles, get lost in storage boxes, spill out of desk drawers, clog dressers, jam closets, teeter in uneasy stacks on counter-tops and drift about in drips and drabs.  They ultimately end up in a land fill  further eroding our planet.

Similarly, we also are dazzled with many daily activities which add little to the quality of our lives and result in addled brains, hyperactivity and shortened attention spans. They include, for example, watching several television screens while simultaneously intensively roaming  a multitude of social media internet sites, commuting in heavy traffic while talking on the phone and texting,  exercising at a gym while listening to or watching the news and the like.  Under such conditions, our abilities to listen and learn are badly hampered.

Finding out who we are after we strip ourselves of unnecessary material items, obligations and useless hyper-activities, takes time, energy and planning.  It can result in some wonderful surprises.

I no longer expect to arrive at a place called “full simplicity” especially since I am not even certain what that would mean.  But I intend to continue on this most interesting journey aimed at simple living while still locating myself smack dab in the middle of our complicated, demanding  world.

history-1-015

Peace on Earth

It’s just a thought, but here it is.
Can there be peace on earth?
I think not, but yet again,can there be peace on earth?
This earth?  Our earth?
Whose earth?

Poem and photo by MJC

Quiet dawn of morning 
pierced by computer clicks, 
I drink first cup of coffee,

all hope of using brain ruined
seeing “stupid” and “greatest” 
on my screen, 
creative thought pierced, 
stabbed by stupid and greatest words,
ideas trumped, thoughts killed.
Until morning when free spirit
brings fresh words in abundance.
tomorrow, when computer closed,
I am not yet crushed by internet chatter from
bitter tweets of hatred and blame and name calling.

Poem and sketch by MJC

(Some people collect stamps.  I collect rainbows.)

Rainbows
celebrate light,
announcing the end of noisy blue rain storms
calming nerves caused by
lightening streaks and thunder beats of crazy drums.

 

Abstract Art by Jordan
Children watch everything that we do and are involved whether we know it or not.  
Yesterday, while the children and  I were doing art together, I wrote a short poem and did a brief a sketch showing them how I blog.  The result is here.
This morning, my grandson brought me a picture that he drew and asked me whether I thought it was abstract.

On the back was a poem.  His smile indicated that he had enjoyed the moment, as did I.

He is always teaching me new things.

His abstract art is above.  Here is his poem.
On his own, he is busy writing a long story, and I am looking forward to reading it.  

Abstract Thought

I don’t know what this is.
But it seems right to me.
It expresses my inner thoughts, I guess.
But since I don’t know what it is,
The meaning of it is elusive.
It seems to set a direction, then moves on.
Much like my life.
Is that what it is?
Each twist and turn leaves a larger decision, a
footprint of sorts.

Beach Junk for Art

Below is a water color painting I completed on a piece of old plastic found on the beach.
An artist friend asked me to help her find a piece of driftwood she needed for a commissioned art piece she was trying to complete.  She had searched several beaches near her house and couldn’t find the correct size, and asked for help.  

On our beach, I doggedly searched for the piece of driftwood with her specifications and found only some small pieces of wood, along with old shoes, pieces of plastic, an unhinged toilet seat, a few seashells, as well as plenty of seaweed and lots of old, jangled, plastic rope. 

Are you surprised by my description of what I found on the beach?  You shouldn’t be, as most ocean beaches are cluttered with junk.   Much of it is plastic.  

When I told my friend that I couldn’t find anything she wanted, she replied,  “Well, we should just switch to painting on plastic.  There sure is plenty of that laying around.”   

A few days later, while again scrounging around on the beach, I found a rather large piece of blue, eroded, plastic that used to be part of a 25 gallon container.  It was an interesting shape, so i took it home then scrubbed it up and left it outside to dry in the warm sun of our Island of the Abacos.  

Then I painted the plastic, first designing the structure with gesso, a kind of acrylic base, then following up with watercolors.  The roughened and worn plastic surface moved the water colors slowly around in interesting ways. Where the plastic was still smooth, the paint moved about quickly and then mingled and mixed with other colors.  

As I shifted the brush size and character, I started to get some pleasant varied patterns on the old plastic.  

Pretty soon, I was lost in the painting and having a great time.  

The end result has a sort of shiny, porcelain look to it.  

I like finding junk to paint on.  And I sure like the price of the canvas.  

Plus, now there is one less piece of plastic garbage on the beach.

What Actually Happened?

Are found truths eliminated lies?
– proved wrong before truth pursued?
Is time not wasted while examining lies?
Is proving a lie truth 
or is truth hiding elsewhere?

Are lies scientific evidence when found false, like proving the null hypothesis?
Are lies facts when truth is obfuscated?  
Are lies kind when they are white?  
Are lies easier to live when when they bely the meaning of facts?
Are lies truer when falsified?
What about pathological lying?  
What are we going to do about that?

Sketch and poem by MJC

Ahem

How is it that 
concern for others is worthless?
real is fake?
data are junk to be ridiculed?
declarations of love laughable?
insults the norm?
while we all fall down, together?  
Is there anyone left standing?
This hurts!

Cartoon sketch by MJC.

Who is that Woman?


She mystifies me, that woman,
holding her paint brush confidently in her left hand,
sitting as she does left leg over right, appearing poised and comfortable in her flowery dress, hair flying, bun loosely in place.

She looks like a beautiful tiger, or
an exceptional rose hanging over tall branches, alone and colorful.

I wonder what she is thinking, this woman of the late 1920’s, an artist painting just a few years since American women could vote.  
Is she looking forward?

She might be aghast if her visionary powers are excellent.

Is she trying to forget?  While sitting comfortably in that brief time between two world wars.

Is she reveling in the present?
I hope so.




Oil painting on canvas by MJC
Water color on paper by MJC