Contained Chaos

My mind, right? Or my writing? Well, the latter could use some help in the containment department but, de todos modos, I have realized that the framing of something, true containment, is actually something I really do like. But, But But But, that which is contained needs to have chaos, chutzpah, life, personality, room for imagination to the point that it seems to exceed the bounds of the frame, which is where I think the inspiration for these photos came from . . .

Some ruminating, marinating, or what you will

• The San Lorenzo Valley is gorgeous. This is a piece of paradise. The trees are awing.
• People are good. Yeah, no, evil, horrid, fallen, inclined to malevolency, however one would like to put it, but also good. Everyone.
• Societies are parasitical. Within each society there are sub-societies living as parasites on the “greater society.” This also means that societies are organisms.
• There are few better feelings than feeling small. Small in a sub-sub-sub-society in a itty bitty corner of a world bigger than our specific expression (yet smaller than our general comprehension); small in the face of history; small standing upon, beneath, surrounded by history; small walking down a one-lane road lined with homes with a backdrop of mountains: San Lorenzo Valley tree-lined ridges, Sierra Nevada snowy peaks, painted cliffs of Valle de Laguar; small in the drivers seat wondering at the constant flow of vehicles; small strolling along West Cliff, through Fall Creek, between tables at Mount Hermon Dining Hall, star-struck at the waves, the ferns, the people, on and on and on; small because while health, relationships, structures, communication, religions, people, words fail, the world keeps turning, flowers keep blooming, language continues evolving.