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On January 15th I posted a wonderful piece about living an oxymoronic and dichotomous life --- and I FORGOT TO SAVE IT! Emphasis on moronic I'd say right now. 


SO in an effort to make sense for you of the post I JUST SAVED about being a badass....



 noun \ˌäk-sē-ˈmr-ˌän\

: a combination of words that have opposite or very different meanings

:  a combination of contradictory or incongruous words (as cruel kindness); broadly :  something (as a concept) that is made up 


I talked in the unsaved post (UP) with great passion about how this time in my life is one of great contraditions. At the same time as I am dealing with loved ones in chronic crisis' (therefore I am as well), my art is blooming and about to take off! I am feeling everyday the euphoric hope of desires fulfilled while also in the same moments holding the reality of utter tragedy and pain. The two are present with eachother, causing an immense weight to each moment and a sense of stretching and expansion within me that is inexpressable actually. So I continue to search for expression. Here in this blog and mostly in my art. I am living each moment on the cusp of Fear and Love.


This led me to inquire if perhaps I was living, not the oxymoronic life so much as the dichotomous life:



 noun \dī-ˈkä-tə-mē also də-\

: a difference between two opposite things : a division into two opposite groups


This seems to capture things as well. My passion for making connections is being both tested and strengthend I think in this time. But there is a breaking point when something is stretched too far and that brings Fear to the foreground. Love is the weight I bear and it is the holding of my loved ones and the holding of my love for myself through this time. But the two loves pull at one another more than ever in times of prolonged crisis'. So I must be careful. I must take care. And so I make art. Creating art is the one place where bearing Love and Fear in their heaviest forms is, well, bearable. It is a place where combating forces or torrents of unidentifiable or unexpressable sensations and choices and questions all come to the table (or easel, or sewing machine) and are filtered out and pieced together and formed until the piece of art carries some of the burden for me and even communicates some of it and even mirrors it back to me. In creating art at this time, I create, in a sense, what any good friend would be for me.


Hmmm.... a bit different than the original post, but the gist.... perhaps better.... NOW HIT SAVE!