A 24 Hour Mind Map
A day in the life of My Head
Headspace
on the verge of
exploding.
Wildflowers need water
but not too much.
Will women be able to vote in the next election?
My daughter’s new dog, Neoma
found roaming the streets
rescued
a gentle giant
with a discerning manner
regarding white men.
Migrants treated abhorrently
herded into the abyss
Criminals they say
skin too dark.
An art exhibition
coming up
what to display.
Does it matter?
Yes.
Suppression of dissenting voices.
Will there even be an election?
What music fits
the studio mood today?
Art, never valued enough,
yet more vital than ever.
Daughters denied
what has been taken for granted.
Imagining a President
Kamala Harris.
Stories of survivors
young women
used and abused
nothing new
just more sickening.
Wondering how different
things would be
had Hilary taken
her rightful place
in the White House.
Faith in humanity
continuously jolted.
Twin fawns running playfully
chasing each other
and eating the lilies.
Qualified women
warned us as
the powers that be
continue to deny.
Riding my bike to the beach
looking toward Canada
past the Juan de Fuca.
Waves know nothing
of the perils,
but continue rolling in
bringing gifts
as the earth is desecrated
by humans.
Dream of traveling
to escape the mayhem.
Who to believe anymore?
Women keep score.
The skyscape never
disappoints as the sun rises
and sets.
Memories of lying on the grass
in the summer heat, daydreaming
of other lands.
Lies becoming second nature.
Communities uniting
people protesting
for the right to be.
Chaos breeds fear.
Intention trumps terror.
Joy seems beyond reach,
more challenging to see the light.
Darkness consumes some
who prefer the shadows,
others are forced into it.
Weakness induces
desperation.
Want to create art
instead, think about slashing
burning
stomping
making a mess
that will mirror
my mind.
I cannot wrap my head around any of what is going on. All I can do is write and create art using the intuitive tools my experience and soul provide me.
Art has always been my savior, providing the joy to carry on. Right now, my imagination is exploding in all directions, none of which make sense or feel as though any path is clear. This is not an unusual place to be, as history has proved many times. Freedoms are constantly challenged.
Creators of all types are vital to any democracy, especially in times of strife, fear and regression. Artists put a mirror up to what is happening in the world and make their marks accordingly. We provide glimpses of the future, speak truth, we question the status quo, protest, protect, persist, resist, while others sit on the sidelines in silence.
Humanity is in transition. Many artists will tell you this, as well as anyone paying attention and attempting to stay out of the slowly boiling water that others have succumbed to.
Why can't we learn? Why do we insist on making the same moves against humanity and nature when we know it will not end well?
We had been warned, but chose not to listen to the women who sounded the alarm emphatically for years. But, yeah, sure, call those warnings too dramatic and over the top. Continue denying the wisdom of the feminine.
I am emotionally spent, but the fire in my belly and the bellies of my sisters and brothers across the world are sick to death of weak men ( and some women) hell bent on blowing up the world, harming, denying rights, even killing anyone in their path so they can feel masculine and powerful.
My mind is in overdrive and needs a reprieve.
Image: Cataclysm, an acrylic on canvas, was created toward the end of the Pandemic when life shifted in all kinds of ways that left many feeling uncertain and blown out of their silos of comfort and routine. What we are going through now is much worse. The Pandemic was a mere stepping stone to prepare us for what was to come.
Thank you for reading and following my art and writing. It is more important than ever to connect and be a part of this or any community of creatives sounding the alarm.
An Artist’s Journey