“Art is To Inspire.”
Who said this…some nondescript poet and folk singer and rock and roller and American legend…Bob Dylan.
And what will you do to inspire…as you are art walking around in the flesh. You are the greatest creation of life that can and will influence outcomes, dreams that got off the boat in Plymouth, crazy minds inventing, discovering, everything from shoe polish to quantum probabilities, the speed of light and nitrogen volcanoes littering the sky scapes of Neptune…which brings up my childhood books and stories: How the hell did Pluto get kicked out of the solar system anyway?
Be so inspired today you can now smoke Panama Red in Breckinridge, you can drink ‘till dawn in some down-home bar in Paonia just on the other side of the continental divide.
Be so inspired today you skip foreplay, lunch and get to the post office for more residual checks.
Who are your to stay in the shadows of what can be, what you can dream, what is but a inch away from your nose…for you are life itself titillating, scintillating, in the phosphorescent sunrises, the effervescent gurgling of truth and beauty having lunch on a corporate card…as your neighbors and ancestors comingling down by the river, in the glen, on the very tip of the Rocky Mountains on some 14’r where the white goats and the marmots, the jewel thieves and claim jumpers rob the goldmines that have been forgotten by Time itself.
Yes you, leave your hat on, inspire the pants off the damsel in distress…Lord, I digress, but it is your life, living with the passion of an army dividing the lands into small kingdoms where the white knights and lost chivalry is back, and all the youths forget to text because they finally get it: They too are so inspired they are now having babies, raising cane, chasing the wild goose and sowing wild oats near Roswell—the gateway to Carlsbad where beauty and Walt Disney collide in the small part of a hot summer’s night, where they serve cheap hamburgers below ground, a cool 62.5 degrees in the caverns with bats and upside down dung, guano mano y mano.
Who are you not to play, have fun, enjoy, relate, listen to the adamant children creating craft stores in the kitchen with markers and crayons and glee?
Who are you to stay bored in a world filled with rollercoasters and carnival rides, jets, sea worthy legs standing wobbly and tall examining carefully the ocean, the full moon over the Bermuda?
Son of a gun…get inspired, live above the waterlines of the roustabouts and the rabble that downplay the enlightened moments that exist whether you feel it, sense it, experience it as you extrapolate from a revelation, a satori that just happened to you in a heartbeat, between grocery shopping and new sex…between lovers in cahoots.
Be so inspired today, everyday, this moment because you still listen to Bobbie, you still wake up and see the adventure beginning… you are enlightened and delightened with all that is on your planet earth still trying so damned hard to figure out what the hell happened to
Pluto.
Fun, sun, and no more reruns…for you are leaving a wake of creative endeavors and riddles and plebiscites nights that gawk at the pleiadians (our closest aliens you know) where the mystery started before your grandma lost it all in the back of a Toyota.
Life is here, and you are going to seek out the Bob Dylan, the barely a man at all, the Buckminster, the Rabindranath, the Kahil, the squeal of your own wheels rumbling through the incredible cosmic world that is your playground. Now play, with four aces up your sleeve, with a half smile, chagrin and tequila, cold beer night.
Be inspired to give, to create, to take everyone you meet by the hand and walk them into the land of milk and honey, Camelot, Xanadu, Oz…for this really is a horse of a different color.
Do, see, inspire…for you have another perfect day to dance…sing and call in the wild, run the gamut and get lost in pure, undulating and phantasmagorical trains in the distant awe.
The mystery is around the corner—figure it out: Play, enjoy…decide to be the perfect enlightened being you were born to be.
The rest is here say and smoking marijuana, now free and clear on some downtown Denver street corner near the guy playing the sax with women dancing in fishnet stockings and a hankering for men with large hands.
Be so inspired that you cannot wait to wake up…for you might have been asleep for a decade you know.
Wow. Cool. Bazing!