Great Time to Be Human... Bloomin' and Observin'

There is a ton of shit going on in this world today. Not in a way that feels new, but in a way that feels louder. Maybe a little closer? Like everything that was sitting in the dumpster just got lit up with a torch. You can kind of feel it right? Just sit long enough and it vibrates like a bad engine. There is noise. Twisted tension so tight it feels like it is going to snap. People churning in their bubbles trying to make sense of things that don't always make sense. Maybe this is something we have seen before? Like a movie reel of the past that plays behind us in haunting clipped whispers. We have people and worlds colliding, opinions are like asshole styled arguments that run like ribbons on a May pole.

Then there is me. I'm sitting here like a weirdo in the mystical little faerie ring of corporate culture, torn between creating and helping the shareholders get more value, and working on my bird impression (iykyk)

Somewhere in the middle of that, I realized something. Creation isn't something that should get pushed aside when everything feels loud. It's the thing that should cut through it like a Wendigo's howl. The chaotic dark to birth neon rainbows against being stagnant.

And somewhere in all of this, in all of the gray and all of the noise, the cacophony of the churn... there is still light. It is not always obvious. It is also not always easy. Sometimes it is buried in the smallest and strangest places. (Just pick the nose of curiosity already) And in all of that sometimes it is as simple as deciding to make something anyway. Art isn't just creating. It's moving and its doing that thing that sings to that muscle in your chest. Working out, playing sports, spinning like a child in your office chair.

The times are a changing, but so do we. We pick up and we create. We move. We don't sit there and stare at the horrors like they are the only thing that exists. As humans, as artists, as creatives or babies waddling into that space, we find our joy. And we bring it to the world. Through cruelty, through humility, but most of all through being provocative. All of it in that sudden disorienting clarity like the whiplash of a car crash through a kaleidoscope of our perspectives. We take everything that is colliding around us. We find all the noise and the tension, piece the fragments together like a broken tea cup. We find color where there wasn't any. We move where things felt stuck. Something that makes people pause even if it is for a second, in the middle of everything.

So pick up your brush, paint...use up that one color pencil...etch a line...dance...sing...MOVE.

Somewhere between the horrors and the whimsical...I think that's where I have been sitting this whole time.