and to the places and the pieces
that move me. I think that saying that to most people would summon a unison and choral response of "Why?"
It's like anything really. Why do I re-watch my favorite movies and why do I find a song a play it on repeat for hours or even days at a time?
To this I response: Why do people continue to go to church?
That's all the same shit too. It's an experience derived from the same tradition and the same book. It's the same ideals and moral block by block fortress that is built reinforced and funded every Sunday.
I'd rather be at a museum on their weekly or monthly free admission day than at a weekly church service.
I go back to exhibits I've seen the week before because they may have something different to say to me or I may have missed something before.
It is not just the art, but the space it inhabits.
I have been museums and galleries, that host a bit of a stuffy, turned nose attitude towards their art and the space, but the best ones aren't like that.
A museum is physical poetry. It is an elastic, holy space. It's as blank, dense and complex as the canvas of life is. I'm always amazed when I enter a space that has gone from one exhibit, from one life, to another.
I'm not saying that church is not beneficial to my life. I'm a preacher's kid, so I grew up in the church. I come from a family of stanch believers. I feel a strange warmth whenever I see light reflected through stained glass windows. Churches, as buildings as holders of our souls, like these bodies, spacial poetry as well.
I've just always found more connection to myself and to whatever creative force is guiding me or made me or is watching, when I'm in an empty sanctuary.
When you empty the container of the dogma, of the rules, of the social standards, societal pressures, of the boundaries, of the bloodshed, of the racism, of the sexism, of the homophobia, of the politics, of the finely tuned limited message of what is infinitely spiritual (but only in a certain direction) defined by one finite ancient book; in the empty sanctuary, I am full.
In front of the same painting, I saw last week, I am full and sure that if I am able to reach something that is illusive and that I feel must be shared, that I could be on these walls too and I could pull people in and let them go again.
When I communicate, I'm an artist; I'm a creator.
When I stir the invisible order of my own understanding of the universe, when I try to go deeper and connect, I am a mystic;
so I visit the cave adorned by kindred spirits again and again
because my bible is written on the road;
on the bottom of my feet as well;
it's broken up across the world;
and I go and return trying to put the pieces together.