001 - 100
1-10
All starts, all visions suspended in cats eyes. Suspended flight of joy and comfort while the wild wonder of inevitability evokes from the still thawing earth. Chloroplasts, lignin, cellular walls, xylem, delicacy and chaos. A slow blink toward potential. A fruitful promise of being without concept of failure. So much more to come. Even not being. Live in the garden, play in the garden, get lost in the garden. Nap in the sun, get lost in the sun. Hold each others hands, get lost in each others hands. Be there to start. Be there to grow. Be there to be.
11-20
The strength of delicacy, temporal, fleeting, proud, shining. Full of promises, boasting of longevity and permanence at the scale of a flower petal. We can’t help but hover over it’s growth with pointed concern, kneading fingers, twisting, wearing ourselves down into smooth and rigid things. Contorted around vibrant worries that it’ll all be gone with a gust too strong, a rabbit too hungry, a memory too forgotten, a burial too deep. We worry in vain. The delicate always returns. That’s its power. Born of ease and lightness, hope, and joy, it doesn’t need our worry. But it appreciates the thought.
21-30
When they introduced color tv, stations programmed around the jarring technological breakthrough. Some tried to ease the terror of impending colorization to the most vulnerable and built skits into children’s shows. The stories were the same - change is coming, color is inevitable. Spring has the same promise. Like a stunned Aussie kid watching my favorite panto suddenly and permanently get infected by color (if I were lucky enough to own a machine to witness), I can’t stop marveling at how all of this color actually isn’t strange at all. It’s all been there, this is how it should be.
31-40
Zoom in close enough and you see change is the permanent state of everything. Persistence is macro. Everything, every state of being and feeling is one bead on en endless single-dimension filament of prayer beads. Focusing on one, fully experiencing the unique edges, tactile disturbances, is natural observation. Pulling back is the only way to know the arc of movement to the whole. Atomic, molecular, nano, micro, mini, all the way up to omni-dimensional. At one scale everything is rippling and crippled by dramas of impermanence. At another, nothing has or ever will be different. The whole is never here.
41-50
Colorbound, declarative, persistent and dense. No obligation, no compromise, no worries about offending or overstepping. All simply being in forms built for cones and rods. Built to represent color, not being color. Cells aligned, architectures tilted specifically to bounce narrow bits of waves, scattering, absorbing everything else. Coded for interpretation and purpose for chosen eyes. Maybe willfully changing molecular structure to communicate changes and ideas. Adapting to perception of an other, but without the ability to percieve the others? Changing with age, undergoing stresses and affiliations. Different stations in the lifecycle. Is it a form of desire? Or just mischievousness.
51-60
Fresh and new in shape and form, spiky, pointy, soft and round. Fragrant, abundant, crisp, juicy, thin and brittle. All holding tight, closed, contained. Within itself a crystalline world folded within itself. A tiny vessel for promises. Forecasts for a temporary being and more sun. We’ll be here longer, but will we remember where they caught us? Will we step carefully around where they were? Or are we happy to be surprised again, always, when they come back around? Only for us to lose them again. At some point when they’re new and bright and we’re more than slightly older.
61-70
Everything fresh and moving, creeping, overflowing. The newborn season unbound and growing, reaching, flowing. Colored lines entwining, winding, reaching. New places being made. New homes being built. New food being discovered. New approaches being laid. Getting somehow from nothing to new, nowhere near the old, so far from mundane, so far from known. A common route, but only generationally. No individual knows the full extend of the journey. Every trip is new, bright. Every destination an old revelation, a familiar discovery. Each stop a new way to fill the world, to foster new. The journey well worn and uniquely fresh.
71-80
Everything’s going somewhere. Everything’s on the move. All the lines diverging, radiating . Some take the slow routes, broad and full. Some take the express like fireworks. There are those who repeat themselves in progression, an orderly parade. There are those who fly away in all directions, asymmetrical tangles of shifts of direction. Player’s choice. Some can’t wait to escape. Some linger intermeshed, thriving on self competition. All push out into space, leaving a changed path behind them, arcing, stabbing, wildly winding to fruitfullness. None of the behavior is inevitable, but everything is planned. Whatever path they take is the best.
81-90
Unwanted, desired, found again. Delicate, unbreakable, sneaking through before anyone ever knows it’s there. Taking control, loosened reins, tiny steps in neat little rows and ragged wildness. Through shadows, thrgouh brightest sun. To the north, a light breeze. From south, a furious storm. In the eye, a cautious agreement to pause a moment and pretend everything’s intentional. Holding time carefully without pressing too hard. Resisting cuteness aggression with a fiery desire to destroy and covet and never ever ever let go. Holding a wildflower knowing concrete destroys itself from the inside out. Wondering which end of the specturm I hold.
91-100
Looking through the her luxury sedan, she sees a homeless person, or beggar, or vagrant, or an unhoused individual, whatever word is used these days. She knows the woman is looking at her with envy and hate. But she forgives her. She can’t help the fortune she’s had. She looks at herself in the rear view mirror. Of course she can’t see her eyes because of her Chanel sunglasses. She needs a new pair. Maybe she should gift these to the homeless woman. But the light turns green and she realizes she can't be seen through the tinted windows anyway.