The embodiment of an incarnation of a realisation of the internal. We seek a daily baptism, an external sign of an inward change. The unreasonable man, that world changer, is responsible for all progress. His curse is the same curse that drives the berserker, the terrorist, the artist, the poet. What is internal must be made external. Our environment must reflect our frustration, our rage, our desire, our perception. Esse est percipi, but to be perceived is to change something beyond yourself. What is internal is hidden, even from ourselves. Selfactualisation, the making of an actual self from the actual made by the self. Every hidden thing will be revealed, or revealed to be nothing.
Expression with integrity and expression without. The joy of matching the outer with the inner is a cornfield parrallax. It is a puzzle finished, a set completed. Scratch on the wall of your cell and make it your own. Scratch on the wall of your T Shirt and make it your own.
Even my justice is that you have made real in you what was real in your victim. Realise what you have done.
Not all mediums have the same worth. Acrylics, oils, words, notes, touches, smiles. Friendships. Some you can ignore, but others you must not. What is expressed is affected by the way it is expressed and the Muse is ready to cut that which has not been transferred to a living medium.
My ringtone, facia, face. My room, my clothes, my home, my homepage. My work. What is to become of the man who seeks to be unaffected and unaffecting of his surroundings? Is he dead? He leaves no mark, but passes through this world and this music like a ghost. He is the cat that walks by himself. Perhaps he floats on the foam of others expression. Can he perceive at all? Disconnection is the myth of independence from transience. It is fear. If I have not love I am nothing.
Fear destroys integrity. If what is inside is rejected, what a rejection that is. False expression is a false protection against true rejection. True love, true life. You may have to choose between being rejected and being nothing. The unexpressed atrophies.
Rage against it, that dying of the light. The external is shaped, but there is a spark that shapes. Give the clothing of thinghood to that which is not. Our canvas road may change us, but as long as there is something to paint, we must go on. Our time is forever, for while there are different inners there will never be a uniform outer. Our work will end only when our vision dies through fear or uniformity.
To be with others while remaining yourself without fear. The challenge of life, echoed anew in every new medium we discover and invent. This is the path of integrity. This is the path to reification and its promise:
Through making real, you will be made real.