Really Good Art

Have you ever seen any really good art?  You know, something that ignites your imagination, gives you a glimpse of timeless beauty, lifts your spirits, provides a sense of the common cultural ground you share with your fellow sentient beings and maybe even gives you an idea of how things could be, ideally, in the tomorrows ahead.

Well, I’ve seen art that moves me, maybe not in all these ways at one time, but still lifts me beyond the mundane redundancies of everyday existence.  These experiences happen to me and that’s why I visit museums.  And, from what I’ve read and heard, I’m not alone; others have had similar experiences.

It’s unfortunate that when they’re spoken about-the experiences I mean-they lose their impact and meaning.  They’re reduced, the more they’re spoken about, to nearly meaningless drivel or pseudo-intellectual nonsense, that, for those who have never had a truly aesthetic experience, turns them off completely; even dissuades them from seeking the enlightenment some of us get from seeing really good art.

It’s really too, too bad; I wish I could convince everyone to visit a museum, find one work of art he or she likes and consider what it means to him or her personally.  Reaching enlightenment can never be a bad thing.

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Winter Doldrums

The winter doldrums have set in.  Nature lies in dormancy and I must admit I’m affected.  My thoughts increasingly become dark.  It’s like I’m living under a black cloud.

It seems like everyone’s rubbing me the wrong way these days.  I’m getting negative vibes from dolls (and people) I usually co-exist with easily.  Why does it seem they’re trying to impose their values-values that make absolutely no sense to me or with which I totally disagree.  I’m perfectly ok with others having opposing views but why can’t they just keep them to themselves.

And the weather’s terrible; cold, cold, cold.  I’m afraid of being taken outside, my plastic body becoming brittle and cracking; then I’d be in a fix.  I’d be destined for the scrap heap no doubt.

If I was religious I might be thinking about the sweet here-after, but given the mood I’m in crossing the River Styx is the more likely consideration.  I wonder which place houses the more interesting residents.

Oh well, I know it will pass. One morning I’ll wake up to a slightly stronger sunshine which will trigger a change.  I’ll once again be my usual upbeat self with an added bit of residual annoyance.

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A Renaissance Woman

During the renaissance period in Europe, when artists weren’t painting scenes from the Bible commissioned by the church, they were likely painting portraits of the rich and famous.

Among the rich and famous at the time was the Borgia family whose numerous intrigues, rumors of incest, murder and orgiastic engagements made for great story telling in 15th century Valencia.

Often the future Pope Alexander VI’s daughter (and lover) Lucrezia was the center of attention.  She was by all accounts a captivating young woman, betrothed twice before her teen years and otherwise regularly used to further the political ambitions of the family.

But Lucrezia wasn’t simply a pawn in the Borgia’s game of political domination.  She was a true Renaissance woman, well educated, fluent in a number of languages including Latin and Greek.  She was politically astute and well-spoken at court where she cultivated friendships with leading artists, courtiers and poets of the day turning Ferrara into a center for the arts.

When one’s flame burns strong it’s often short-lived and such was the case for Lucrezia.  She wound up submersing herself in religion and dying at the age of 39.

I wonder where someone like Lucrezia would fit into the contemporary social milieu.  Would she contribute a strong and articulate female voice to the world dialogue regarding politics, feminism and the arts only to burnout in the futility of the endeavor, find religion and end up probably not being an asset to the abbey?

Whatever happened she would most certainly become a media favorite adored by the left and abhorred by the right.

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The Post-Modern Man

I-Ron, the post-modern man, was telling me the other day he never misses church on Sundays even though he doesn’t believe in God.  He said he enjoys the company of the faithful while knowing he will probably never and, anyway, had no interest in experiencing the faith himself. Then, he said that, come to think about it, he didn’t really believe in anything particularly other than those immediate impressions that allowed him to go about his daily activities.

So, when he found out one of the members of his congregation had taken his own life recently and how unsatisfactory that action was in the eyes of the congregation and the church, all he could think of was the scene from Dante’s Inferno where the suicides are imprisoned in trees and are constantly pestered by the nasty Harpies landing on them, breaking off limbs and causing much pain and distress.

Although he felt a bit guilty about not feeling any remorse and pretending concern, I-Ron could only see the story as colorful and not the least bit disturbing.

Well, even though I do lean toward a moral relativity myself I had to feel a bit sorry for I-Ron; how can one really enjoy life without having strong moral feeling of any sort?  I wondered to what level of Hell Dante might assign I-Ron.

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Why?

I was listening to my friends the other day discussing which of the big ‘W’s’ (you know, where, when, who, what, why) they thought was the most important.  The Barbies were clearly in the ‘who’ camp: who was the hottest celeb, who would the next bachelorette pick, who would ask them to spring prom.

IMac girl thought space and time to be most significant; when and where the next notable meteorological occurrences and/or ecological disasters would take place. Being of a social nature, she also was concerned with the where and when of the next Philosophical Society Social.

Tiny Tina could be forgiven for seeing the importance of the ‘what’ her parents and teachers would next demand of her.

Poor Pitiful Pearl (who is neither poor nor pitiful) suggested that all that really mattered was ‘why.’  With ‘why’, she offered, one can question the legitimacy of those social values that have led us to believe short-term popularity is important; with ‘why’ we can question the importance of our artificial time structures as well as the legitimacy of our subservience to those who render power over us; with ‘why’ Pearl said, we can eliminate superfluous concerns and find the path to our true natures.

Pearl’s argument pretty much fell on deaf ears.  The Barbies said they knew their true nature which was being the most popular girls in school; IMac girl said one’s true nature hardly mattered in relation to the immanent destruction of civilization as we know it and Tina said she might be able to overlook the demands of her father and teachers but her mother was simply not to be trifled with.

I felt like I had just witnessed a microcosm of the essential dilemma of doll-kind: It’s not simply that were not all reading the same page; some of us are making paper airplanes.

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Absolute Certainty

I’ve been thinking lately how difficult it is to know something for certain.  How can I be sure that what I know to be true is indeed true?

I have a lot of doubts.  There are many things I’m quite uncertain about; too uncertain to make a judgment as to their truth or falsity.

And there are quite a few things I have opinions about; things I judge to be so with a pretty high degree of certainty but am not absolutely sure to be the case.

Then, there are things I’m sure are true because they behave or exist in a manner consistent with what my mind expects them to do or be.

But can I be sure these things I’m sure are true are absolutely true?  Are they true for everyone all the time for ever and ever?  And if these sure things aren’t true for everyone all the time for ever and ever how can I be sure of their truth?

Well, it’s a true enigma; how can I know that I know what I know, that’s what I’d like to know.

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The Dollsheviks

I was thinking, the other day about Vladimir Lenin, leader of the Bolsheviks who overthrew the Tsarist monarchy and established the People’s Republic- a social organization in which all people participated and shared equally in the fruits of their labors. What a truly great idea!
Well, I guess that was the way it was supposed to work, but as truly as mankind has an inherent social conscience, a concern for it’s fellows, it also has an inherent selfishness, an inherent primacy of concern for number one.
So, as almost always happens among people of unequal abilities and more or less selfish inclinations the power and control and wealth gravitated into the hands of the few and the promised equality never materialized.
Despite the drawbacks I still think the idea has potential, at least for dollkind. Dolls, at least most of the one’s I know tend to be compliant and generally happy beings. Many maintain a constant smile on their faces. They’re able to keep their egos in check and very seldom complain when left out in the rain or are ignored to gather dust for weeks at a time. Most have no inclination to lord it over their fellows in any way. Establishing a Socialist Dolls’ Republic, it seems to me, would be just the thing to insure we’re all dusted off occasionally, have our minor damages repaired, you know, get fair and equal treatment.
I think I’ll offer the idea at the next meeting of the Dollsheviks; I think we could make it happen without the need for a revolution.
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The Tribulation

Sister Chloe was telling me the other day that she thinks given the pain, suffering and general turmoil so evident world-wide; given the catastrophic storms, the genocidal tribal conflicts, the unrest precipitated by lust for power and material gain that the Tribulation is at hand.

The Tribulation, she explained to me, is that period of time before the Rapture (or during or after depending on one’s reading of the book of Revelations) of extreme discomfort, suffering, mass psychoses and neuroses and the poisoning of our earthly environment leading to, among other things, congenital mutations (and probably anything else one could imagine as being really, really bad).  She made it pretty clear it would not be a good time to be around, and provided the rapture did indeed occur before the Tribulation, better to be raptured than left behind.

The idea of being Raptured I found a bit hard to take seriously.  Although I did see on the news the other day, plans to offer space flights to the moon in the not too distant future.  Maybe the comforts of a modern space station and the freedom to bound about in the relatively light gravitation could seem a sort of Rapture.

Well, back to reality, I think about the beautiful places, good people and beneficent actions that do exist and are happening every day: the relief efforts, the enormous energy aimed at resolving sectarian differences and violence all driven by our inherent understanding that, in the final analysis we all need each other.

I do think, though, I might inquire into possible interest of a would-be space traveler in the companionship of a friendly doll.

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At the Marae

Do you think that there’s any chance there may truly be a unifying essence or ground of being that is shared by all mankind?  You know, something buried deep within our psyches that we’ve somehow lost track of these days when divisiveness seems so prevalent.

I was thinking back recently to a time a few years ago when I was among the Maori people in Aotearoa (the long white cloud) which is the name the Maori have for the islands of New Zealand.  Before these folks were inundated with western materialism and capitalistic pursuits (not to mention Christianity) they basked in the natural beauty and mana (what they call spiritual power) around them.

The mana the people inherited from their revered ancestors extended to Tangaroa (the sea) and Tane (the forest) and all of nature in a beautiful Cosmic Unity.  As long as tapu was respected everything went along pretty well.

Tapu is spiritual power like mana that everyone has and some objects and places have but some people and places have more tapu then others.  Everyone understands that when strong tapu is encountered it is important to act with deference so as to keep you spiritually strong and not upset the delicate cosmic balance.

While in Aotearoa I was allowed to visit a Marae, which is a sacred meeting place were tapu is particularly strong.  Upon entering tribute was paid to the ancestral spirits in recognition of the origins of the mana or life force shared by everyone in the iwi (all the people).

So, after thinking about it, I’m just wondering, if we’ve lost track of the mana around and within all of us and the tapu of our neighbors and acquaintances, maybe we should be searching for a sacred place where we can all come together and find our common ground.

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Thoughts on Global Warming

I’ve been reading about climate change lately.  I’ve been trying to make sense of the number discrepancies and the diametrically opposing views about a subject that seems as if it should be pretty straight forward.

Some people are convinced the carbon dioxide emissions being spewed from autos and power plants worldwide is collecting in the atmosphere and causing, among other things, the ice caps to melt.  Others are convinced global temperature fluctuations are just a normal cyclical occurrence.

Both sides site their opposing statistics and their scientific experts but, it seems to me, for a lot of people the issue boils down to an emotional, us versus them scenario with an almost religious fervor.  Sometimes the issue seems reduced to name calling and ad hominem attacks just like it used to be on the playground in elementary school.

Skeptics think of proponents as tree-hugging alarmists just looking for another world threatening crisis; proponents think of skeptics as anti-intellectual luddites with their heads buried in the sand.

Well, whether or not human-caused global warming is as dire as some claim it seems to me we could all do a little more to reduce our carbon footprints and ease the pressure on Mother Earth.

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