Many of the posts made in Le Lapin are based in the view of platonic idealism and artistic poetism. In this post, I wish to open space to ask a few questions and offer a more personal entry. Readers are always invited to comment, and some do by email, which benefits only me. Therefore, I really wish for you to comment in the comment section. Le Lapin gives me a sense it may change forms. Knowingly these next weeks, paid subscribers will have access to the poetry read aloud and receive the PDF copies of the books. After the poems, Le Lapin is planned to merge with Lapin on a group collaboration with Richard Grossinger and Ruslana Remennikova. I have been considering interviewing people because I have found conversation to generate the most creative energy, and I welcome your thoughts about that direction.
Tolerance for disagreement or so-called negative thought seems important to maintain as homogeneity fosters similarity instead of diversity. While too much negatively can harm, too little adversity stunts growth. I didn’t realize until recently how tolerant I was to negativity and found that was likely due to understanding positive energy and love have always revealed themselves as more powerful. And while two opposing thoughts can be held simultaneously, the distinction between robotic function and neuroplastic mobility relies on the dance of light and metabolism of cellular respiration. We have easily more than two processes without reacting against some big machine; we have 12+ processes expanding into dimensional holographic space-time, and it has always been this way.
Our bodies already contain the most sophisticated technology I have seen, though perhaps is often take for granted. We have the capacity to create curved architecture, we can get to different countries, and change the ways we monocrop or adapt to weather. These are remarkable capacities to create with life. So often, as I am creating, dancing back and forth between doing one thing or another, oscillating, I have a driver inside my heart that moves me much more than what can be called mind. This is not a romantic motor, because it’s not retroactive or rose tinted…it sees dark and in the dark too. The mind motor I found was easily influenced and controlled. My heart though? It could howl and speak for my life in a way my mind couldn’t reconcile. So I noticed quite quickly this sort of splitting happening with people, the outsourcing of interior function, the less able to remember: what it means to love.
So I wonder: Has human creation become taboo? are people truly in favour of the somewhat psychic modality of: “tell my my fate” mirrored in the game interfaces of ARTIFICIAL Intelligence. These new virtual realities seem to animate the same kind of subconscious awareness the mystical practices of the past did, or the dreamworld would reveal in sleep. And what will become of the future? When I was a child, I had imaginations of cities because I grew up in nature.
Always easily overwhelmed by cities in their current inception, is not the cities fault. Each city creates its own resonance through collective thoughtforms, and to make any kind of change there, a penetrating manoeuvre would have to be done formally, ideally through art, design, or something that could give the thoughtform buzz being generated some pause.
Being in Paris has been full of personal challenges, remembering, growth, and often feels like walking through the books or paintings I studied. The buzz of unsettled tension and wonder about the choices people face in the future is everywhere, and yet people seem more relaxed about it within Paris than when I was visiting parts of California. I had previously been quite antagonistic about the implementation of technology, but then I remembered my kindergarden self drawing flying cars, likely from seeing cartoons, and designing underwater living units, for people who didn’t want to live in high rises or in houses. There was an innovator that got chewed up for awhile, that has come back out to play while completing these poems. I haven’t been terribly busy with things expected of someone staying in Paris awhile, as there seems an enormous number of activities, that could take years to ever really get to know. Experience gobbling seems dangerous and unfaithful to a kind of trust in my heart as a guide to exactly the things I care most about creating.
Living in the unknown, without conclusions has forced me to make deeper contact inside the ventricles that connect me with life. Though this realm is often invisible, I have a sense most people know it’s that realm that matters most.
The notion of being of the earth or an alien is not foreign to me. I’m not necessarily where I came from, where I am, or where I am going. The notion of Identity has always seemed a construct, and lately Identity seems to be a fixation. I often find it quite easy to distinguish a human from someone repeating what they heard before, and even if the machine sounds almost human, the artificial chats almost read exactly as New Age dogma.
Outside of the limitations of my personal physique and values, there are NEU social moulds I have attempted to resist with great personal consequence, as the so called older moulds feel more honest. Had I become less conscientious, perhaps I would have experienced less empathy. I had tried to become more neu-feminist and I felt fake. Whatever perversion of the ideals aimed to aid women to have the same rights as men became some kind of psychological flip for men to give up being men? The wars of the sexes seem to be the most inane of all. We have each other and in my eyes, had darn well learn to get along.
Though I am glad I had not acquiesced and pretended I was not concerned about the shapes and forms emerging, and how much agency humans would need to cultivate. Instead of temporary ease, to find health I had no other choice but to find, or rather invent some kind of faith, while living in the unknown. Do you think faith can be built without a super structure? Can faith in life work for you?
I also wonder what you think about the notion of a pen name? Why on earth does the dictionary deem an alias akin to a thief? And if so, then what does society make of Madonna? And what about the Magdalene energy we have been robbed (otherwise known as truth)?
So if a rose remains a rose no matter what it is called? What do you think it matters what someone calls you? Is it the words or the energetic resonance behind their words that must make it past a psychological filter through language, or sonic filter FELT and made real by the intention of the light of love, or volatility of distrust and fear, that makes each other what we are, to each other.
Finding beauty throughout the riots and demonstrations for calm.
The garbage finally got picked up.
The chrysanthemums changed colours in the span of a few weeks.
Making rabbits a theme.
While enjoying the always inviting twilight.
Looking forward to developing the HP5 Film of this tree and others.
Is creating a crime