I have been quiet for too long.
Although you may or may not be glad about that, I feel it is only fair and even-handed of me to warn you, before I really get going here, that this will be, more than likely, one of THOSE posts; one of those whirling words posts that I careen into now and again. So be forewarned. You may choose to smile, sit back, fasten your seatbelt and enjoy the ride (although riding the Wild Mouse roller coaster might be more advisable at this point) or, should you be so inclined, (or disinclined, depending on how you look at it) you may decide to pack your bags right now, take your leave, and run, headlong, for the door.
Now, it’s not to say that, should you decide to do the latter, you will not be missing anything. In point of fact, you may be missing THIS, in which case, I’m speaking to a deaf crowd; however, I shall continue for those of you who ARE still with me (so far), for the sake of continuity, if nothing else. You won’t be missing anything, or, you will be, depending, again, on your perspective. It’s rather like Sherlock, looking at the clues from all possible angles, but, regardless, it is my opinion that you will, in fact, be missing something, so we shall take that as fact and proceed.
Once in a while, and for no particular reason at all, I do need to let off some steam, vent, or otherwise let loose, verbosely that is, and prattle on pointlessly about nothing in particular (although my ‘nothing-in-particulars’ do, very often, end up being about something-or-other no matter how hard I try for them not to be, which may leave some of you wondering just what it is that I’m muttering about.)
“More Matter and Less Art.” (Yes yes, Gertrude, I swear I use no art) (Well, it has, after all, been a long time since I subjected you to Hamlet) (and if you didn’t realize that was a tidbit of Hamlet, I may be forced to subject you to more a bit more often, won’t I?) Art is, after all, what this is all about, isn’t it? Blogging that is, not necessarily this post, though this post may also be considered some crazy-mad variation of art by someone, somewhere (although whether or not that person may be considered sane or as Mad as the March Hare is another issue entirely).
Blogging. Art. The Love of Words. The Passionate Promise of being able to log in and read an enticing line or two (or twenty, once again, depending); to submerse yourself into a fantastic ocean of pure, unadulterated Notion; to pour through prose and poetry as intoxicating as a fine (or cheap) wine (yes, again, depending). It’s about sharing thoughts, dreams, fears, loves, hates, and secrets we, perhaps, tell no one else (though secrets we will share, readily, with potentially hundreds of thousands). It’s the Magic of the Muse, the Dance of Desires Delicately Doled out, the Rhyme and Reason of Right or Wrong that keeps me, at least and perhaps you as well (since you are still here) (even against your better judgment, perhaps) coming back again and again, day after day, to fill mind, heart, and soul with words and visual poetry that steps beyond the boundaries. (admittedly, sometimes the wrong boundaries!)
Or it could be that I am the one who is as Mad as a Hatter (I see you nodding!) Still, Art and the love of words is enough for me, and, now and again, a tidbit of Shakespeare thrown in, just for good measure. Otherwise, without Art of one form or another (oh I do realize I only skimmed the surface here of what is or should be considered art, but I didn’t want to start a heated debate so I stuck with blogging, since we all understand and, seemingly, agree on that one issue)…without Art, where is the Joy in life? Where is the Mystery, the Music, and the Serenade? I, for one, cannot even imagine life without Art.
That would be like sitting down to read a post by Morgan and, instead of 1001 whirling words that leave your head spinning and your eyes (perhaps), nearly, crossing; you would find something more akin to the following:
Art Makes the World Beautiful.
BORED! (although at least, though that would be boring, you won’t find me shooting smiley faces in my flat’s living room wall!) (Yes, that’s a Sherlock reference, for those of you who are, at this moment, utterly perplexed)
So whether you write 1001 whirling words; whether you write prose or sweetly, seductive poetry; whether you write short stories or long ones; whether you write Inspirational devotions or prattle on about nothing-in-particular, it is, in my humble opinion, Art. YOU are an Artist.
And since Art Does make the world Beautiful, so do YOU.
Beautiful Original Artwork by: Josephine Wall