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"We must restore hope to young people, help the old, be open to the future, spread love. Be poor among the poor. We need to include the excluded and preach peace. A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just."
— Pope Francis: the first Pope from the Americas.
Yes
The teenage girl told me cutting was the only was she could let the pain drain out. Her arms were like railroad tracks where trains no longer ran.
I think about her when I make #art, hoping that I can provide safe passage to sufferers needing a pass to comfort in a happier place.
"What's in you head?" the youngsters asked.
"Well, there are beautiful dawns, and bird songs. There are flowering trees and gentle streams. Pretty rocks. A nice meal. A bubble bath. Some poetry I read. Some poetry I wrote. And, so much more."
"Is this what makes your art?"
"Yes."
If you had to apply to be considered a human, needed to submit a resume of sorts which elucidated your commitment, your dedication, your empathy and moral qualities, your charitable propensities, do you think you would get the position?
Or, would you be just another failed biped.
"I could look at your #art for a million, million days," said the little girl.
"I know," the little boy said. "I didn't like art much until I saw yours. Now I want to paint and draw all the time."
"It's just so colorful," another boy said. "It makes me so happy deep in my heart."
What is the meaning of #art?
It's a path to better understanding the splendor of that which is beyond the yawn, which is the droll, the mundane, the vapid.
It's the realization of vast provinces in a human mind, scintillating kingdoms of myths and magic not to be found elsewhere.
With a black bowler hat, a white frilled-fronted shirt with French cuffs, a black cape with a blood-red silk lining, I used to sit at bus stops around 3am, hitching rides, just to see what people were doing, were going.
Those days are long gone.
Now, my body'd be found at dawn.
Leading a life that is an edification to fellow humans, to try to enhance the existential struggle with the magic of art, to explore the ever unfolding of perhaps our most precious gift - imagination - affords a sense of worth to the mundane processes of wake/eat/pee/poop/sleep.