Dear ones,
It's that weekend reminding us
Earth Day is Every Day. Naturally, Art Ranger has a response, or an owl pellet about it. Meet
Mother n Father Earth, a new development. Why single out
mother to do the heavy lifting on our reparations? We are currently taking questions and striving for consciousness down in the soil where earthworms are born, so that food can be grown and loaned to our bodies so we can return to earth ....
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| As the soil warmed, we learned to remove our boots. We read "Silent Spring" and Edward Abbey's "Desert Solitaire" |
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Mother n Father Earth answers many questions with harmonica tune "This Land is your land, this land is my land, from California to the New York islands ...... with pauses
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| How do we collaborate with nature? How do we not kill it? while we eat it and harmonize with it. How do we share optimally the planet so as to be worthy of the title, humankind? |
Embedded in the soil under our feet, are coiled lists of endangered species as well as the climate change related words that have been recently
redacted from scientists' work, emerging from the soil and pulled like umbillicus.
Read aloud. in loops.
We collect happy accidents, where others collect buttons. One day, the shiny rectangle (thats taken over the world) dropped on
the ground and lands on top the California Poppy with the camera on,
resulting in:
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| poppy leaves |
As "the headlines" scald the mire of our made-for-tv-nation detour, we continue to experience a choking gore of sickened/saddened alongside being "entertained" by the absurd theatrics. With centrifugal force, growing ever more rancid. In contrast, our appreciation tuning vines growing toward literature and artArt have increased steeply. Science Fiction is calling, since we're baked in a pie with it. Yesterday, it was Ray Bradbury's "Farenheit 451" on audio during car trip. Lordy! So perfect a text to intersect with. Suppression of knowledge (as well as any emotion besides "happy") through the burning of all books. And the life ending amount of passion some characters display in trying to protect books, and the inter-human connective tissues alive within them. Bradbury's every sentence hewn.
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| California poppy flower |
In the book, people move about using jettrains: "nature" had become just a blurrr of color, a dash of green this or that seen through a window, etc,. Billboards were now str e -e -tched to become very very long, in fact continuous, so as to not let up grip on anyone's attention. Hmmmmm.
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| Nectarine |
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| Almond blossom, we think |
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| Outside Salinas |
The days are getting longer since we are dancing a tango with time. Well dear friends and strangers, we wish you the fresh leaves and clear attitudes necessary to carry forward. Please send thoughts and vision to:
homelandinspiration@gmail.com. Oh, and something simple to admire:
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| P.S. This is where the book just opened. "Heaven," Poems of Jack Kerouac |
