The four pieces presented here represent way stages, by products, off cuts of something more solid, more finished, more substantial. Yet I like them for what they are. Sometimes things which we discard have a value of their own, the more so for being discarded.
I wonder if we can recollect and reclaim certain parts of our lives and invest them with new meaning and significance on our way to forming something more polished and complete. Or if what we cast aside and ignore is never really cast aside but remains, clinging to us, helping to form the beautiful rag tag bunch of bones, thought and emotion we are.
I have more off cuts filed away, but it may not be a good idea to bring them out all at once, especially at this time of year. We have to deal with ourselves slowly, treat our formation respectfully, attend to it with patience and care and a gentle touch of humour. Nonetheless, I'm a bring-it-all-out-in-the-open type of guy, as long as I have plenty space to do so. As long as I'm able to resist judgement, judgementalism. As long as I sacrifice foolish pride for consciousness of self. As long as I am a black snowflake falling in the night, melting into the significance of insignificance, where the darkness of prime source circles back on itself, gathering in the strays, a snow sun soaking back its own creative rays.
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