The Point Of Art Is Not Simply

The Body Remembers, The Bones Remember, The Joints Remember, Even The Little Finger Remembers. Memory Is Lodged In Pictures And Feelings In The Cells Themselves. Like A Sponge Filled With Water, Anywhere The Flesh Is Pressed, Wrung, Even Touched Lightly, A Memory May Flow Out In A Stream.

Solitude Is Not An Absence Of Energy Or Action, As Some Believe, But Is Rather A Boon Of Wild Provisions Transmitted To Us From The Soul.

Like Night Dreams, Stores Often Use Symbolic Language, Therefore Bypassing The Ego And Persona, And Traveling Straight To The Spirit And Soul Who Listen For The Ancient And Universal Instructions Imbedded There. Because Of This Process, Stories Can Teach, Correct Errors, Lighten The Heart And The Darkness, Provide Psychic Shelter, Assist Transformation And Heal Wounds.

Failure Is A Greater Teacher Than Success

In Mythos And Fairy Tales, Deities And Other Great Spirits Test The Hearts Of Humans By Showing Up In Various Forms That Disguise Their Divinity. They Show Up In Robes, Rags, Silver Sashes, Or With Muddy Feet. They Show Up With Skin Dark As Old Wood, Or In Scales Made Of Rose Petal, As A Frail Child, As A Lime-yellow Old Woman, As A Man Who Cannot Speak, Or As An Animal Who Can. The Great Powers Are Testing To See If Humans Have Yet Learned To Recognize The Greatness Of Soul In All Its Varying Forms.