EXTRA ORDINARY.

On Monday, March 16, 2015, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

I’ve been looking for what’s called ‘ordinary things’, but so far haven’t found anything that qualifies. ~

Meanwhile, while waiting, wondering, wistfully watchful and wishful, to witness from the window, winter weather on the wane. Well aware white witches and wizards of the world are wide awake to the wild wicked wily ways of the wilful worldly warmongers. Having winnowed a wealth of wheat from weeds on the world-wide-web.

Thus said, and delivered with more than enough www’s to trouble you if not double-you up. Waiting patiently, impatient for lower back pain to ease and warm spring sun to soften the density of composted soil and the cyclic return of light and lightness on all levels.

Feeding the fire in the grate indoors, in contemplation of heat, heart, hearth, earth, and the perennial intricate conundrums of the process of art.

Mad macrocosms, oppositions, conjunctions, Plutonic, Uranian, and rabid red dogs of war. Bursting forth from the retreating age of Kali, bathed in photonic light, as above so below. Literal last battles in all dimensions falsified, covered over, not covered by the cowardly cowering television matrix of distraction, and all the world’s at that stage and all the people pawns.

Pause to poke the bright glow in the grate, shift the vision, coal crackles, brittle logs issue sporadic sparks and gunshot cracks as yellow flames flare. My focus is on inspiration here.

The world is on fire, everything presented in a blaze of drama, flares up as if larger than life itself. Even artists aspire to do something big, something extraordinary.

Notice the predictable human urge to overreach, as if the ground that supports you was unworthy of gratitude. It’s natural to aspire, but only half the story. The outward requires the inward in order to be whole.

In being forever outrageously outward we can lose touch with ‘the ordinary’, (so called), that which all life consists of. Without affection and appreciation of what we call ‘the ordinary’, how can we hope to encounter any extra-ordinary? No wonder the urge for power and control. No natural affection for all that simply is, we become ungrounded in being.

Otherwise it’s like wanting to build a big house, but not liking bricks. Wanting to become enlightened in contrast to what you think you are. When ‘enlightenment’, (so called), is as you are now, having failed to become something you’re not, in a future that doesn’t exist.

I even put a search into the internet, looking into hundreds of examples of ‘paintings of ordinary things.’ Mostly pretty boring, as we’ve programmed our machines to equate ordinary with boring, commonplace with uninteresting. Because that’s the way we are programmed to think.

You know, “familiarity breeds contempt”, is the presumptive mantra. Whereas, in nature, any ordinary thing is extraordinary, largely because it wasn’t made but grew that way by itself, naturally.

The practice of art (any art) is to see through and beyond the word ’ordinary’ into the mysterious beauty of the natural. When what we make reflects that, it can be quite extraordinary. Then we are no longer at war with the natural world, presuming it to be other than our true being.

It’s natural and inevitable that we wish to be of a world that mirrors our finest essence. We grow to embody our relationship to our perceived surroundings, for better or worse.

All the more reason to be affectionately and ever more creatively intimate and curious with the simplest of so called things. All life thrives on appreciation. ~

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Martin Rainbowmaker