Zen and the Art of Smudge

This last weekend I smudged our office. Yes. Smudged. It is a native American cleansing ritual employing sage smoke and a methodical rotation through the room or series of rooms.

Our architectural firm is $40,000 in debt, out of money, out of work and nearly out of hope. Our newly hired half-day-a-week bookkeeper suggested this. I consulted some friends who told me to go for it, so we did.

I thought it was so much hokum. Hey, I'm a Christian and we just don't do this kind of thing. But we started, and the sage smoke reminded me of the Orthodox Christians and the high church Episcopalians who use incense. Smelled JUST like it in fact. Now, I don't have a big ass bejeweled fancy schmancy robe and hat that the Orthodontic Christians wear, and am not ordained or anything, but by golly it was a religious experience nonetheless.

There are some theological problems with calling spirits and the like. I believe there is but one God. But ya know, I just don't know all about this God I've believed in all these years. Now, some folks DO know him - lotsa Catholics and protestants know God personally. THAT is way cool and I wish I was that privileged, but alas, I'm an Episcopalian and don't know shit. I just figure that God is here in this stuff somewhere and, well, smudge on, brother.

I felt pretty good when we were through. During the exercise I remembered all the schmoes who had worked there and who had brought me down so much. I remembered all the wacko office managers we've gone through - the ones who stole directly from us. The ones who nearly ruined us by their inane, blatant stupidity. (but for LZ - the one shining light amongst them all). I remembered that bad stuff and sent it out with the smoke - forgave it - let it go.

I don't know if it "worked" but I felt better that day and still do. I practiced my drums later that day and had a defined clarity of rhythm and groove. It was almost zen. I do attribute that to the cleansing. Tomorrow is another day and there will be more negativity anew. I hope I have found another tool now to deal with it. a thanks to AC and LZ for inspiration.

Ain't no hope, cowboy

This photo most closely represents the job outlook for our architectural firm for 2010. I am a manic depressive personality these days, waiting for the inevitable. There is no hope. There will be no more jobs. We're done.

I have to say I am relieved in some ways. The specter of liability will stay hovering over my head for awhile, but even that will soon fade. Folks who sue you are interested in flesh. When there is no flesh, the carrion and their attorneys fly on to another distressed carcass.

My art will survive as long as I do. It's what I do. Architecture has just been a career, seen as a wide-eyed youngster eons ago with more emotion than sense. I suppose that is still my mantra, now as I trudge up the 18th fairway, over par but not wanting a DNF on the score card.

I dread the coming months of finishing/cleaning out/throwing away all the hopeless, meaningless flotsam that has piled up in miserable garret. I fear I just don't have the energy.

I am as down as one can get. Down.

Cold hearted orb

That rules the night
Removes the colors
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion

- Moody Blues

Valenstein's day

I wanted to be more informed about Valentine's Day so I went to my web search engine and found some interesting bits of history. This is quite fascinating. I can't relay all I learned, but here are few highlights worth sharing.

In Ancient Rome February 14 was a holiday honoring Juno, the Queen of Roman gods and Goddesses. It was an innocent child's game at first but soon came to be a pagan dating ritual. So much so that the soldiers were getting laid right and left which made it difficult to force them off to war. This didn't set well with Emperor Claudius II and he banned the practice.

A Jewish Levite named Valenstein felt pity for the soldiers. "True, there's no sex after marriage but, what, these young boys get no courtship even?" Valenstein said, shrugging his shoulders. So he started secretly arranging courtship for the soldiers and marriages if they wished. This pissed off Claudius and in 270 he had Valenstein beheaded on, of all dates, February 14.

People felt sad about Valenstein and started commemorating his death by sending each other love messages every February 14. Hallius Marcus, a Roman business owner, got the idea to capitalize on all the guilt men had in relationships between them and their loved ones so in honor of Valenstein started a greeting card business the very next year. This grew into a multi-national firm and his descendants eventually moved to America and founded the shortened name, 'Hallmark', which exists today serving the needs of men who have no fucking idea whatsoever on how to patch things up and get laid.

Ahh, necessity, the Jewish mother of invention......I haven't a clue how it was changed to valentine.

A Reverse Image

A reverse Image. I've had more time these days to reflect on my life. Had lunch with a good friend last month. She's half my age and often asks me advice. It's pretty cool to have a friend half your age. The ease at which my answers come astounds me sometimes. But it is true. I've lived to an age that I never thought I would be. But here I am.

I recently came upon a photo of me when I was 5 years old. I was playing with a toy train set. I was black and white, well dressed, nice shoes and well, heck just a nice little boy. I didn't have a clue. I didn't know poverty. Hunger. I didn't know racial prejudice. Kansas had very few 'Negroes' in 1950. I grew up in this kind of bubble. Everything had a schedule, purpose and method. You did the next step. that's what you did in Kansas. Always the next thing, and we all knew what it was and life was pretty simple.

Pretty soon it was time for college. That was the next step. I had become enamored with drawing using rulers and straightedges and thus had decided in Junior high that I wanted to be an Architect. The next step, then, was to go to architectural school and that's what I did.

Press that little rectangular key with the double arrows on it. That's the fast-forward key. Forwarding. Forwarding.....a little more. This may take a few minutes. There. Here I am. I have skated through life with but just a few bumps, nicks and emotional bruises. Been through downturns. Made a living actually as an architect. And now, for the first time in my life I have hit a wall. Something not perceived as a next step. something off the track. I have come to face with The Great Depression II. That's what it is. People don't want to recognize it, but that's what it is. I'm out of work. Coasting with no fuel. The engine has stopped and now there is but to find a place to pull over, get out and look for a phone booth.

I'm feeling fucking shitty. And then I think of the people in Haiti. geezus. (guilt-trip) And the people in Afghanistan and Iran and on and on. (Onandon - sounds like the next country America will need to 'stabilize' to ensure our western economic interests are preserved).

I'd like to think that I did things right and followed all the next steps. I'd like to think I was prudent and didn't spend beyond my means. I would have liked to retire with more than two dollars and ninety eight fucking cents to my name. What the fuck happened?

A reverse. A white-to-black. my art is the only thing now. Art.

Pastel and charcoal

This is a really quick study throwing some pastel into a charcoal drawing. Not too successful but it still has depth. the colors get muddy. sometimes that's ok. much to learn - much to learn.