I wanted a place to put my poetry and stories, but I didn't want to crowd this blog with them as it has a purpose all its own. So when I got the google page maker invite in my email, I decided that would be a good use for it. Ursine Logic, the Poetry and Prose Page> Please do take a look and check back frequently, because like this blog, it is a work that grows and changes and becomes as I grow and change and become.
So far there are only a couple poems on there because I want to do with it what I have done with this site --combining my words and my art into its own shape. There's too many realities to consider lately, too many layers of life that keep unfolding, that just art or just words becomes limiting for what I want to express.
And I have a lot to express. For the last year it seems as if I have been in some kind of accelerated growth spurt mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
The mental part of it is easy to understand--the world has become so simple-minded, so jingoistic and annoying, that my mind is starved for more. It feasts and feasts and feasts on everything. I want to know everything. I want to study everything. I want to do everything. This is my rebellion against the stunted growth of thinking ability that is becoming a universal illness.
The emotional growth is also simple to understand if you measure it against the years I've been on the planet and what I chose to do with them. More and more I realize that maturity has nothing to do with age, but with the quality of experience. I have this strange sort of confidence in myself lately that would have served me well when I was younger. It would have opened my eyes quicker to those who could wound, and it would have directed my heart more toward those who had something to give instead of an unrelenting hunger to take.
But the old argument creeps in as always that without the pain, the bastards, the love defectives, the users, abusers, creeps and crawlies, I'd be someone else and probably not someone who writes and draws and survives by her own wits and skills and abilities.
The spiritual part of it is strange to me. By no stretch of any crazed imagination does it mean I am tending toward religion or any kind of imaginary playmate. What it does mean is the more disconnected people around me become as a result of their struggles to find meaning in god and religion, the more I go toward my literal and metaphysical nature roots. There's nothing more holy to me than the cathedral formed by the majestic embrace of an old growth forest. This is where I find wholeness. This is where I am completed.
Is it any wonder these morons running the country want to chop down every one of my cathedrals and turn them into financial gain? They took one look, let a little bit of the majesty enter their greedy and cynical souls and saw there was serious competition for their empty, mean, cruel, intolerant brand of spirituality. They knew if people had a choice, that their ugly buildings with their evil intermediaries would rot away from disuse.
The forest is their enemy. But it is my church. And it was here first.