Stumble and fall, get up, stumble and fall, get up, stumble and fall, get up, stumble and fall…

At some point in our deranged lives, a light may begin to glow, mercifully falling upon the bloody, screaming soul we’ve been dragging along with us for so many years….

Was it all in our soul’s name, or else, in whose name was it, that we’ve believed so childishly in the promised land, that we’ve bet on arriving at the stability and depth from which all of our betrayals, all the life we ran from, would be justified by the obviousness of our success and contentment?

In the answer may lie the difference between our living or dying.

So, on the day we come face to face with the apparent futility of our efforts, we need to stop running and ask the question aloud, or soon the cliff edge may be laughing after the echo of our last compulsion.

I already know that my own answer lies in a pencil stroke, a note mirroring anguish, a gesture, a word, in one of the million doors that lead to the palace of wisdom and love.

Deeper and deeper without shields I let myself fall, to see if falling is really about dying or freedom from fear

There’s no art here, no “web site” or blog to admire, no competition, no prize, no soul selling in exchange for empty smiles

There are things I need to say out loud, sounds I need to hear, questions I need to ask of the world.

I will try to undress my soul, confess my sins, caress my dreams, to see if underneath it all, there’s something worth sweating for.

And all that is happening in Vancouver, the city I’ve adopted only 7 years ago, which is itself in free fall towards the mouth of our latter day rapacious system. So there’s that.