I tell you, we are here on earth to fart around...

Gaia's Pond

mixed media by Leslie Avon Miller

This post is a reblog from November 12, 2010. Seth Apter at The Altered Page has an annual event in which he invites bloggers to share a post from the past.

This is what Seth has to say about Buried Treasure:

So many blogs...so little time. With so many wonderful art blogs to follow, it is difficult to always find the time to keep up with every new post -- let alone have the time to visit the posts that were put up before you discovered each blog.

So...three years ago I started an annual treasure hunt. Buried Treasure is about digging deep to uncover some hidden gems. The premise is simple. On Wednesday, July 11th all participating bloggers will re-post one (or more) of their favorite posts that ever appeared on their blog.

So without further ado – here is one of my favorite posts. I also enjoyed the resulting conversations. You can find the original comments here.

 

Today.

I want to make art. I have time.

Walk and take photographs.

Paint.

Flat efforts.

Tidy working space.

Look at my art.

Tidy living space.

Look at other people’s art.

Read about other people’s art.

That’s what that’s about?

Look up the word oeuvre.

That’s a big word.

Not in size. In meaning.

Read poetry.

Read more poetry.

Organize poetry collection.

Stumble upon rich quote.

Laughter and gaiety.

Thinking, thinking.

Feed the cats, and find comfort in the

familiar.

See the daylight begin to fade.

Realize what it’s about for me.

Make a list of words.

A map for my work.

It’s all ok.

I kind of know what I am saying.

I am exploring, seeking, finding.

Choosing. Integrating. Releasing.

Look up the word imbue.

That one will work.

I’ve found the door to get

back in

my art.

The poem:

On Becoming the Poet You Were Meant to Become

(note to self)

Many poets are not poets
for the same reason that
many religious men are not saints:
they never succeed in being themselves.

They never get around to being the particular poet
or the particular monk they are intended to be by God.
They never become the man or the artist who is called
for by all the circumstances of their individual lives.

They waste their years in vain efforts
to be some other poet, some other saint…

They wear out their minds and bodies in a hopeless endeavor
to have somebody else's experiences or write somebody else's poems.

There is intense egoism in following everybody else.
People are in a hurry to magnify themselves
by imitating what is popular—
too lazy to think of anything better.

~Thomas Merton

The quote:

I tell you, we are here on Earth

to fart around, and don't let

anyone tell you any differently.

~Kurt Vonneget

They mean the same thing.