Screaming in a Vacuum

Inclination

“sometimes I hear screaming like a child and wake up to find it’s me”  – Stephen Fitzsimons

The trail unfolded, winding through the brush into the hemlock and hardwood forest. Adjusting the pack for weight balance, the journey triggers past memories from the flood of sensory inputs that surround. The feeling of somehow being “right” with the universe launches an inner narrative, subtly at first, but steadily increasing as elevation activates visual awareness mingled with contemplative notions.

Discernible landmarks, only recently discovered, begin to highlight the excursion. Promised observations fused with natures gestures unfold. Imperceptibly at first, each trail revelation unveils itself.

The ability to coax story and message, uniquely visual, from the multitude of sensory stimulus, confronts the creative expression influences. The welling of frustration, as is often during the inaugural state, slowly recedes as the inner screaming is replaced with tranquility once the separation of earthly presence resolves towards spatial references and an ability to persuade and permit visual language to engage the mind.

Lines, gestures, luminance, tones, shapes, scale, space, movement, dimension, direction and so much more, with patience, gather their presence in unfolding initial distinctions, allowing more perceptive points of view.

Pausing for whatever amount of space capacity “feels” honest, this presence develops mental narratives that swirl the subconscious. Concluding that nothing conjures from this particular viewpoint, an unwinding occurs and the subjective sense begins the revolution towards new considerations, often inches from the past, either horizontally or vertical, possibly both.

Thus the day progresses, absorbed and harmonious.

Nature’s geologic wonders continue to unfold. A re-entrant cave, beehive outcrops, gravel bed layers erode from their sandstone masters of such eons, veins of coloration offering untold geologic biography, evolving shadows, saturation and gradations as clouds drift, seemingly aimlessly, allowing the sun’s luminance an ever evolving paint brush over the landscape.

Hours pass in an instant. Notable visuals are interred to compact flash, each construing from subjective awareness intertwined with objective technical competence deemed necessary to convey its proposed directive, forgoing later scrutiny of viewers perceptions.

The breath of life floods the synapses.

The trail halts abruptly as dual water falls cascade from considerable heights. Space/time are quite endless as gear remains stowed while quiet observations and reflections begin. Numerous vantages present themselves with Cheshire cat considerations. The deliberate scrutiny encompasses potential future manifestations unbound through Mother Nature’s partnership.

Cascades

Ultimately the course is reversed and visited through 180 degree spatial relationships as it uncoils towards the source. Further presentations intimate visual harmonies and are unfurled.

Slowly the mental and physical burdens wear upon creativeness and the trail-head beckons. The mind wails in its vacuum, yet the cycle of life spirit glows with inner change.

Just another day in paradise……

Always,

Dusty

“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” Edgar Degas