The Dangerously Delicious Delights of Doors

Working as an artist is a non linear exercise. Doubley true when one is in recovery from a major life changing event. It also restricts one further, when a cold of seemingly plague proportions is added to the mix.

But these conditions can also be used to one's advantage. Can't they?

Right now the streaming eyes and nose are not particularly helpful, but the buzzing in my right ear as the sinuses protest (at least I hope it's that) remind me of the need for simplicity, speed, only using the essentials, and that the human brain is not just a computer-like organ, but also a radio-like receiver.

Grab tissue! We can tune into anything we choose. That which is held in the cone of perception is augmented. Sometimes, with practice to a seemingly infinite level.

Carlos Casteneda said it best, when he talked of the assemblage point - a place to pass through all the threads of experience in that particular moments weaving.

Dreams were also the take off point for many other states of consciousness. They were all Portals. Doors to somewhere. Cracks in reality, if you can define what that is. If definitions are indeed the point.

The problem of course is choice. How do we choose from an infinite number of ways, to make a coherent, dare I say 'right' choice?

Simple. As an artist I have carte blanche now to include whatever I wish. It is a black box problem. You're not allowed to look in. And if you do, I reserve the right to speak in tongues.

Well, let's call it ARTSPRECHEN.

Labelling is a magical act. It allows us to circumvent the laws of the Universe, or rather Multiverse. (A door for another blog methinks). It is why The Grimoire and Spells, the staples of popular horror tropes are revered as so powerful.

They have their origin in WRITING. Grammar, Spelling. Which are the high tech of our ancestors. All of which are predicated on making marks, the image. Now we have computer coding and digital printing. Two or three dimensions. There are many more, trust me.

Just as the mice were the two dimensional manifestation of five dimensional beings in "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy", the cat on my sofa is taunting me with his constant sleeping and effortless stretching.

His penchant for a certain grey blanket is new, and puzzling. Yes it's Autumn and it should be cold, and we expect the cat to arrive-it's not ours. We don't feed him. He always seems to know when people are ill or in need of emotional bolstering.

The great magickal thinkers The Ancient Egyptians worshipped cats. (large portal to another blog). They are great movers.

Just as I'm on the verge of a great insight, three thunderclap sneezes. All is forgotten. I'm back.