The last light in the darkness

We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live

Sonya:

What can we do? We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile—and—we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! You have never known what happiness was, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall rest.

Uncle Vanya

Anton Chekov

*Just watched Drive My Car with mom for Christmas, took a lot for my stream of tears to not burst me open

 

  I don't have anywhere else to share this with that it would mean anything but it is the 20th anniversary of when I began my Lightscapes series which was just an experiment in a photo workshop with Arno Minkkinen in August 2003 in Maine.

Our group went to a lake to photograph and a person let me borrow their Holga camera. It was a great day and I could even feel something was happening you know like when an artist gets an instinct about making something in the process it feels bigger than themselves, they are harnessing what cannot be forced but as if one where to walk into it. I remember Arno said the kids I photographed trusted me because I walked the water. Which I literally did all my clothes soaked walking into the lake but sometimes you must do those kinds of things and that it is worth some social awkwardness and discomfort especially when people trust and let you in, especially the most important subjects for one to truly earn their respect and trust is kids. It has always been the greatest honor when it has occurred and I have been extremely fortunate.

  Seeing the photos results the following day helped me find this lifeline in eventually the body of work that would be Lightscapes some years later when I was struggling photographically. It will always mean more to me personally than some experimental body of work that I don't know if others can surmise. I don't know if the personal translates through it's "artistic" appearance. I had to learn to rely on myself and some sort of feeling tethered toward intention and fate despite a great flaw of mine is fatalism. I don’t think my pictures reveal that layer of myself. I really love my work. I just wanted to say something because I want to claim what I love and my work brings me meaning and confirmation that being alive is worthwhile through all of it.

  I'm writing this in advanced because things here are too sad, frustrating, and chaotic and my mental health threshold has been tested in a way it hasn't been in years and in a way that even differs from before. A new plain. A new territory. A new zone. 

  That it's happened this month and dates of all times is like being thrown into volcano. I'd like you here but know it would have tested you also and you had a lot of fragilities because of how much you loved us and mom. There is so much I wish I could know about your life and who you were that only others can tell and they are no longer here. When people pass their memories and archives of all those known has also erased. 

 I've been trying to sort things but the past few years is constant consistent concrete roadblocks that if you even you tried to get past the content of them you couldn’t without great risk and also great commitment are needed right now and material provisions needed are not here at this time. What is it to be loved? I’ve recently been reflecting on that from a message I received. I don’t think the way this world is set up societally that many people know how to really show love or care it in way that is consistent and meaningful. And those with consistencies seem to be only luck of fate if they are around. 

  I read this quote from a film still recently “Whatever you think your life is going to be, know it’s not going to be anything like that.” 20th Century Women with Greta Gerwig, haven't seen it. At a certain time being younger but healthier psychologically I wouldn't have thought that yet at the same it would have frightened me to read it, it would have stayed haunted and lodged inside because there is so much truth to it isn’t it? Even if it’s obvious doesn’t one not want it to be? And even if you haven’t had everything in your life be an avalanche, isn’t is just so disappointing? Even in the best of circumstances of one’s life isn’t it so disappointing? I’ve been quite haunted the past few years and now even more. How could this be all there is? And then I look at what happened to you and I realize it’s always been here knowing that.

  Sorry this isn’t much of a reflection on your day of passing. I don’t hope for an afterlife in one aspect and it would be tormenting to see things and people you cannot but I also want one where you are ok. Where somewhere you can hear us and only feel love and no disappointment or sadness that we meet or we come back to you in some form. I don’t mean a heaven. I don’t know exactly what and I don’t need any religious zealots telling me otherwise. I just hope you’re ok. Even if you can’t hear me, that’s ok too, you’re at rest. One day we will all be at rest as well. Hopefully not those who have wielded so much pain in their immense status and power those people do not deserve their rest yet. Anyway I have to go right now and visit the woman we all love, one you have loved from afar still after all this time.

Love, 

Little Bear (would you hate if I got that as a tattoo one day I think you would, you hated tattoos  but I still think of it every now and then anyway)

August 4th, 2023

the story is old I know but it goes on

forget the dead you knew they will no longer come for you 

 I struggled through my youth, preoccupied for years with the impression I could finally succumb like a prisoner in Strangeway before I could have a chance to pass through. Then one night I realized I was already released to the other side. There are moments when stairways can appear even for those who have no inner accommodations or intentions to burden their cores with faith.

(June 10, 2012)

Misconceptions about the things that kill you

severing the hand that corrodes the birthmarks assimilating atomic bombs

No alarms 

no crying 

no languishing

no stars

I’m pretty committed to tragedy happening to me

but this will not be what kills me

that

may

when

where

how

why

now

instant

shocking

compelling

activating

impending prism

Do I miss you or who I thought you were

How do I believe when that has never transpired to whatever I needed or desired

Listen

I can tolerate standing on one leg blindfolded carrying easily the disappointments and bad memories, I memorized them like the back of the unmarked veins on the roads that course through my hands that I used to not hesitate scarring 

what possibilities and dreams that could have been is what haunts me

not that these things would have come to be what I was hoping but the relic that I once allowed such hope to take ahold and it still has never let me go

death is the fissure that aligns us all like birds suspended to be detonated assembled in a row

torpedoed 

it reminds me there is no escape

maybe I do not long for one

maybe we don’t connect in the real world that we merely intrigued one another that we were lonely but we were not meant to be anything more then a passing chapter before we get back on line to whatever fates we have awaiting, it doesn’t seem we have the same ticket it would be comforting but I know life does not offer such comfort 

I don’t trust comfort

Loneliness and sadness that’s what I count on

I realized I wanted to expect more out of life but I don’t have trust that that is what will happen

not that I am doomed but there is not much else to expect

But how long can I live with that?

I don’t want to live with hope but how can I live without it?

I try to abandon hope but I feel it will never let me go no matter how small it withers even to a seed

a speck 

an atom

I wonder what will kill me

I wonder if it will be all at once

or one by one carefully

methodically

some restraint 

some mercy

I can’t count on that

I will try to live without hope

but I believe hope’s seed no matter how far I travel how much I abandon whatever new tragedies befall me

how much I pretend it doesn’t count

I am not as brave as I once hoped I was

maybe I no longer wish to be just brave

I wonder what will kill me

I wonder if it will be all at once

or one by one carefully

methodically

some restraint 

some mercy

I can’t count on that

what possibilities and dreams that could have been is what haunts me

not that these things would have come to be what I was hoping but the relic that I once allowed such hope to take ahold 

it still has never let me go

death is the fissure that aligns us all like birds suspended to be detonated assembled in a row

torpedoed 

it reminds me there is no escape

maybe I no longer pine for one

however long I cry and agonize 

I have endured and on and on

I will continue to reconcile that this has long ago been implemented before I was born

hope will never let me go

maybe I no longer aspire it to

many lives ago