I was thinking about how to explain everything I’ve written or made pictures about
and there are a few things I should probably explain…
Forest is a place in nature that is beyond our conception.
A dark place because of the night but always full of life.
A womb.
Any horror there is of our own making, we bring our demons into the forest, and it will provide shelter for them.
If you enter the forest you will face demons and if you leave the forest, you will also leave your demons.
Doll is an alchemical object, it helps transformation but is unaffected by it. So it absorbs our feelings, our desires, but it is not the thing being transformed. Doll is a mirror that absorbs and reflects
Doll is female because she gives birth, but the birth represents a transformed self.
This is the key to understanding.
Chance is when something happens that you ascribe meaning to that seems you had no active involvement in. Like when you are walking down a busy street in a town you’ve never been to, and bump into someone you haven’t met for ages. Chance is both something and nothing, it has a tricky quality. what you take from it is up to you. Some moments over others. It happens many times almost every day, so every moment, however slight, is potentially one that might hold great significance.
Including the moments that you discard without a thought.
Randomness is when something happens that has no correlation to anything apart from slightly dubious mathematical theories. I read a great story once about how these mathematicians would live in a world of quantum theory, but then they’d leave work and forget about it all and enjoy evening with their family.
Because if at the root of our existence there is a true pure randomness, how does that filter through to the lives and thoughts we have?
Time is a room full of vessels gathering dust in a cellar many levels below. I can’t find what I wrote but it described a place where many many stone steps you’d have to go down and then you’d find a room
where there were lots of vessels.
And in a side room, there was a faint ticking sound.
And as you walk through this dusty place, deep deep underground, you’d find an old man,
working on a tiny watch.
And I asked him, what are you doing?
And he said, I’m keeping time.
Buddha was apparently a real person. He did some stuff and said some stuff and by word of mouth eventually after centuries it got written down. It’s pretty simple, you choose a path. We are all taking a path. It just depends where you want the path to go. Some paths are easy, though I’m not sure the easiest path is the right one. Perhaps it is. At the very least, I guess we should at least acknowledge that we are on a path.
understanding what that path is, well,
when we close our eyes…
Love isn’t a thing. our day to day language is very poor at describing love.
That’s why poems exist.
Because they describe what cannot be written in words.
