somewhere in between

I just had an epiphany somewhere in-between, and around listening to
my deceased friend Evan’s poetry, and delving my eyes on to my walls that are packed with local artwork, and my mind went to a very peaceful place. I thought, look at all this beauty I have surrounded myself with. Then I thought of what negativity the world is throwing out right now. Much more than that, the unkindness of other people. The harsh words to each other. I will not allow myself to follow suit. Nope. Thank you to all the creatives that have packed love in my direction, through their artistic endeavors. To form me, to prepare me, to teach me always. There is more to celebrate when self is shared. Love a local and their creations when at all possible! These are your angels sent here to nurture your spirit. We have so many here. It’s not just another container of pretty sounds in your ears, or some paint on a canvas in a frame, or words in a row, in a book. It is someone’s heart digitized, soaked in, pushed across. This is something to be celebrated, not be-rated, not judged, not pushed aside, not filed away, not stacked on a shelf.

All these things, hit me in different levels, and times in my life, when I least expected it. I know your songs are built that way, for you are the only one that could build them that way. All the good heart music is that way, like an onion,. different meal times, yield different meals, at different times, when your body does not even know it is starving. I know your painting is only laid in that frame like that, for you are the only one that saw that light mixed with hues and blues, in that way.
We all, in my world, have raised each other in love, of creativity. We all carry this past in us. All of us are breathing this present today. Memories together, we will cherish in the future.

Writing this I can’t help to think of how much I as a lover of creatives, do what i do, have done what I have done, mostly looking to connect with people. Things are not people. To share thoughts, to create memories, to make visions real. These are not just blocks of things on my walls, these are connected shadows of a man, that makes me whole.
f.messina (c)7.25.21