SIDEWAYS EIGHT PROJECTS

Epigraph:

“I DON’T PRETEND WE HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. BUT THE QUESTIONS ARE CERTAINLY WORTH THINKING ABOUT.”

— ARTHUR C. CLARKE

—-—————————

Until

Let’s pretend for a moment

that significant arts integration 

in schools, at early ages 

and along the path of upbringing 

doesn’t have countless benefits

proven extensively 

in the short and long term

across the board.

Let’s also pretend those benefits

don’t include drastic improvements 

in confidence, creativity

ability to learn, critical thinking, 

decision making, problem solving,

fewer disciplinary infractions and more school engagement.

Let’s further pretend

for the sake of argument and

entertainment value

there wouldn’t be additional improvements 

across three levels of skills:

fine motor, language and social 

joining forces with empathy,

focus and aesthetic appreciation.

Let’s pretend, shall we?

Everyone has a storyteller inside them somewhere.

Let’s make believe we live in a world

where we can set all of those things aside.

Let’s look at the other side.

When are you going to get a real job?

The arts don’t change anything.

They don’t make a significant difference.

The arts aren’t needed to sustain life.

They aren’t necessary for our existence.

They don’t matter.

Some may dismissively say the arts 

are for those with access to

opulence and affluence

rather than seeing them for the 

sustenance they are 

in meeting

basic wants for all

Some may flippantly remark the arts

are a side hobby for those who embody

luxury and privilege 

as opposed to a lifeline in providing

basic needs for all

Some may have a vision of the arts

as being representative of

grandeur and splendor only

rather than the basic building blocks

of everyday life as well

Perhaps people don’t think about artistry

the way they ought to

Until

Until the city walls feel like they’re closing in

yet the paintings on the walls of the museum rekindle our spirit

Until the single Dad, passed up for the well deserved promotion at work finds the strength at his daughter’s ballet recital that night to keep fighting the good fight

when he’s watching what matters most

Until the parents have to bury their own child as a result of senseless violence and need to escape together from the ills of adulthood into Mahler’s 9th symphony at the local performing arts venue

Until the recent widow uncovers a sense of community within the crochet club at the local center

Until the heart is shattered, in dire need of repair, and a stand up comedian becomes the surgeon we most needed

Until the events of the day knock the wind out of us and a magician’s slight of hand trick helps us feel lighter than air again

Until the small child whose school, home and hospital are no longer, uses the sooty oil from a blown out small engine as ink, and one of the legion of empty shells responsible as a canvas to sketch their idea of paradise, determined to live it out line by fractured line rather than become one of the monsters who did this. 

Until our partner cheats on us and runs out on responsibility and a touring light show helps restore our sense of self, bringing color back into our world

Until the headlines overwhelm us 

and our inspired tattoos renew us

Until we are at the brink of utter exhaustion

from working multiple jobs

none of which offers sufficient benefits

and wood working tutorials

or a tap dance class

or a burlesque show

or making a collage for a friend’s birthday

gives us the release to get through

our day

Until caregivers and protectors discover new levels of toleration and respect for the fiercely dressed artists volunteering to read to children and their parents at the local library. Causing everyone’s hearts and minds to open wider than previously thought possible. 

Until the dwelling place is incinerated in a wildfire and we find an irreplaceable photograph miraculously untouched in the ashes

Until our furry and feathered friends’ batteries run out and a recessed outline of how they stood in our lives is set in a glazed ceramics display. A constant reminder of the permanent imprint upon our heart. Perhaps gone, but never forgotten. 

Until those closest to us share their story of being abused and we’re able to sit with them in silence gazing upon sculptures formed by positive touch 

until the marble and our hearts both soften

Until the unhoused individual sitting curbside contemplating intentionally losing a game of chicken with an oncoming train notices the innocent expression on one of the faces in the nearby mural and decides against it.

Until the soldier returns from active duty in a war zone to a place which formerly felt like home to find a poetry therapy group and begins to find their bearings again through creative writing catharsis.

Until the teachers, counselors, coaches, therapists, pastors and health care providers take in the perfect play or a fantastic film and take on their tasks more fully restored than the day before.

A life rich in art for everyone is

like continuously opening Christmas presents or finally finding the last Easter egg after a long search

A life rich in art for everyone helps aid

us collectively to

Liven up the languid

Ignite the intention

Vibe with the volatility 

Embrace the enigmatic

Collaborate with the conflict

Rescue the remedy

Exercise at elevation 

Acknowledge activism

Testify to the truth

Investigate the imagination 

Verify the viable 

Energize eccentricity 

Let go of loss

Yearn for out yonder 

The arts teach us

Goodness, mercy and kindness often come from unpredictable places

The arts show us

A candle flickering in the darkness that is the lonely executioner of night

can be enough to light our way home

They help our bodies to know

When the wounds of our falls are still fresh we are better able to swiftly rise

and finish the race strong 

They had us staying up later and later

to watch just one more episode

during the pandemic.

They have us sitting in our cars 

in our driveways

after the engines have been quieted

to finish the song playing

before we go inside after a long day

They have strangers

seated in the same restaurant as each other

showing their excitement 

for someone celebrating 

another trip around the sun

by singing in unison 

a song we all know

Being an artist isn’t just a real job.

It’s the most real job I can imagine,

and the most needed job I can think of.

The job of being better human beings.

Everything matters.

See we as artists may have  a difficult time

in a corporatist climate making a living

but we have an easy time 

making life more worth living

for everyone whose lives we touch

including our own

Until we finally see the light

{Written for DINNER ON THE BRIDGE 10/5/24 A Sierra Arts Foundation Fundraiser}

How do you heal many years 

within a single evening?

Wipe away a sunken fallen heart’s tears

who thought it wasn’t done grieving.

Getaway car outside grinding gears

winds up not wanting to be leaving

I left the intimate gathering

doing cartwheels in my head

and backflips in my heart

already searching how the next piece

would start

The next verses were at Gary’s

and the Nevada Club’s Gold Country art

after a quick stop by the car

everyone holding three more decades

on their chart

although these moments we are given 

freeze time at least in part

I’ve earned these lines on my face

same as I’ve earned the ones on the page

this life is filled with grit and grace

while bending bars to the cage 

Sometimes we lock ourselves away for far too long

forgetting there’s an entire world outside

then a kind stranger shows us where we might have gone wrong 

bursting the flood gates open wide

They hand us the key

in a word, a gesture or a phrase

for us to finally see

in the good ole days

and present praise

how things might actually be

Our eyes become opened wide

matching the hearts thumping in our chest

some like me may have openly cried 

others felt overwhelmingly blessed

a few who may have tried to hide

as simple visitors quickly became guests

burdens gave way to singing in unison at night

weary souls finally finding rest

For an evening we were young again

the entire universe of infinite possibilities 

laid out before us

swapping stories remembering when

part of something bigger than ourselves

flowing with the harmony in a chorus

From near and far we arrived

seeking answers to our pleas

We could see a thousand different permutations of our lives

each flickering as candles in a sierra foothills breeze

finding our way home with the version that survived 

and embraces which gave us 

a spirit squeeze and much needed ease 

the sea of faces are older and more wise

while lasting connection brought me to my knees

Emotions jumbled innermost gifted

holding common ground

Humbled and uplifted, once lost yet again found

Make sure to leave plenty of room for life to move you and surprise you

Certain to open space as well for it to awe you and prove you wrong,

Expectations may fall short but also be exceeded when they try to

It hasn’t been too little time since they saw you, it’s been far too long.

Close your eyes 

You can do this

The older you get

the more you need to remember

Of course you can’t keep them closed

forever

If you’re going to continue reading this

from a dusty page in your book

mouthing the words as you hum along

However

You can keep your lids locked

and imagine all you want

If someone else is reading this to you 

All you have to do is close your eyes

and it all comes flooding back

How it was

to be read to as a child

and imagine along the way

nearly falling asleep

yet never more awake

ankles brushing on the low carpet

gathered in a large circle

fiddling with shoelaces

scratching knees

Occasionally staring out the nearby window

Fidgety during the scary parts

Completely still during the exciting ones

anticipating the next steps

captivated 

Perhaps you’ve had the same experience that I’ve had

The administration pulling the ole Switcharoo at the last minute

and sending in a substitute 

to supplement story time

Perhaps they were even left good instructions 

as to where the class was at in the text

and they were even able to pick up

right where you had left off

Perhaps you were missing the voice 

which had first helped you find your own

Perhaps you appreciated the new voice

because it helped you think of the whole story in a brand new light

Perhaps both

Searches were met with findings

and more questions

Longings were met with forms of comfort

you never knew you always needed

and new desires

you never knew you always had 

Looking around the room 

to witness others reactions

Frozen frustration with the cliffhangers

Collective jubilation releasing in triumphs

For now the stories we’re read

aren’t from our favorite teachers

sitting at the centers of our circles

rather reporters seated behind desks

sharing stories which make us want

to close our eyes for different reasons

to labor under the illusion

they never existed in the first place

which takes a far stronger imagination 

than even our most creative children

seem to be capable of

Our souls will not accept these substitutes

So we are left desperately folding into ourselves 

begging the universe for new stories

for different ones

those that empower us to hold fast

those that encourage us to ride on

those that remind us how to play

and help us to patiently wait for the finale 

which we all believe will be worth the delay

hoping in those we stand by

actively listening and feeling deeply

to see the delight in each other’s faces

when all of our innermost questions 

are finally answered 

and it all makes sense in the end.

One day

I won’t be able to come visit you

Some day I won’t be able 

to reach out and call you

ask if you want to go for a walk

and talk along the way

at some point we will

have shared our last meal 

and not known it at the time

I’ll be even sadder then

than I am now

in anticipation 

anything but eager

so as downcast as I am now

in my feels for all of my thoughts 

I push that day away

elongating time in appreciation 

for the fact that I can still call

I can still write

I can still laugh with you

about the silly and simple things

The grand gestures may garner the photos

and those are worth safe keeping

but the daily rituals make a life together

and those don’t need to be kept safe

as they can never be taken away 

this life will take my breath away

but our life together 

will give it back

this life will bring me to tears

but all we have shared

will carry me home

This life will take everything

and everyone it can

until it takes me too

but we’ve been right here all along

just waiting to be noticed

hoping to be seen

longing to be detected

wanting to be heard

needing to be felt

praying to be loved

That’s why one day can wait

and day one is right now

wherever you are

pick it up

hold it with both hands

appreciate what you already have

hold it loosely

for others to see as well

and it can never be taken from you

It is you

It is us

It is all of ours

Give me the assorted felt tip markers

some with missing caps

the number two Ticonderoga slate gray graphite pencils from the highest rack

a few needing a good sharpening pass

The massive box forest green and 

goldenrod yellow backed of stacked crayola wax 

several slots filled with broken thoughts

and crayons to match

Give me the dry erase marker standard pack

with a red, a green, a blue and a black

give me the colored pencils and tattered stained stencils

so I can fill in and still win

this shattered heart on my sleeve like a flattered patch

Give me the highlighters 

the black and blue medium point bics

run over by a forklift completely jacked

and the watercolor pastel paint set

at which some dumb little boys might laugh

Give me the giant cracked tote

with scratch paper for unwritten notes

mismatched lego pieces for sail boats

and every drawing utensil out of whack

you can imagine at the back of the class

Give me the calligraphy pens

the mechanical gems

the oil based trays

and the spray paint cans

all together in one humongous batch

To color the life that I’ve lived

as a gift that I give

in an epic card to lay in your lap

You can thumb through on your own time

along with echoes of my rhyme

and keep it all gathered up in your pack

Drop the nap sack

Stop the back track

Crop the images racing 

down to what’s right in front of you

here and now 

rather than the he said she said

snatch and grab

or the clap back

Let my voice be the fast track 

to a safe landing in your heart

Let the lines grab the ratta tat tatt

or the bat back

outta your hand 

before you flip out snap

and can’t retract or cash back 

We’re one savings account

trying to defund and refund

our imagined and actual stack

of past debt

but we can’t cancel the transact 

My life has been a broken vibrant kite

flying right

through a rainbow

seen through a kaleidoscope prism

but I’m prepared to start over

and run it back

I’ll need a little bit of everything

to color it true and share it with you

but it is what it is and that’s that

An Experiment

We are among the last in this experiment of living

coffin ready paradise aimed

straining to regain what the pain has taken away

These are tough times

but damn sure so are we

regardless of where these times take us

You deserve the time to be taken to be told

you are known, loved and seen

in the absence of shame

in the presence of peace

To be loved is to survive

To love is to heal

To do both is to be permanently altered

To be truly changed 

is to stare tough times right in the eyes

knowing they will blink first

We’re already prepared for the best of times

because we fell in love at their worst

That which you’ve fallen in love with

does exist

It isn’t a myth

And if it doesn’t just split

in the fog or the mist 

then it can feel more real

when we need those feelings most

in our chaotic catastrophic midst

in the thick of the thicket

to the height of pure bliss

We were built for these times

for we knew deep down they were coming

Written in our DNA by the scripts of our films

the lyrics of our songs

and the codes of our creation

Looking over the landscape to proclaim

I can’t support this

Looking inwardly to the mindscape to say

It has gone too far

Looking to the ancient texts

for the good news

because the nightly report is

Simply too much for our hearts

Although these words are not enough

standing alone to make a difference 

they at least let you know

where it is that I stand

so that you may better make

an informed decision 

as to where you will

when the future comes over the horizon

to meet us where we’re at

laying down demands

trying to understand

lending a helping hand where we can

For I’m not one to hold a grudge 

any longer than I absolutely must

I’ll never be the judge

but the redemption arc I’ll trust

There’s a lot more coming 

than what we’ll leave behind

and what’s on its way

will be worth all the seeking

when we finally find 

We hold each other now

In anticipation of when it arrives

embracing one another getting stronger 

holding on longer 

than our will to survive sometimes

Through our hands pass the sands of time

grasping to hold rather than sift

“We are” carries more weight than simple I’m 

Yet I’m contributing to the collective gift

These gifts we give sourced within

help to knock the dust off our souls

as the experiment of living begins again

rather than ending before we are whole