Man in the Mirror

pangardenstudio — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 09:50:24 +0000

I am at a crossroad where my truths and beauties will either save me or kill me. I must have lived this long for some reason other than the pleasure of a cup of hot earl grey tea in the middle of the night. My mission is unclear. Well, my mission is clear, but how to do it is impossible it seems. How can I make a difference? How can I bring sanity and kindness to a world of delusion and cruelty? I don’t know. I am greatly comforted by my good will that extends to all creatures, so grateful to have this, there is nothing that gives me ,gives my life more meaning or warms my heart more than this enlightened compassion I have….. nothing I am prouder of. But, it is a lonely place and even as my truths and beauties comfort me, they also torment me, for being so alone, for not being able to find a way to make a difference. Even family and friends….most are lost in some form of religious delusional nonsense and NONE of them give not a second thought about the innocent animals they eat. So much for bravery! So much for ’morality’! So much for noble integrity! So, how do you open the minds of people who have closed them? and are proud that they are closed!!?! How do you open the hearts of the heartless? I was watching a Youtube video of Michael Jackson singing Man in the Mirror tonight. What a beautiful soul he was, so misunderstood.What pure and decent motives he had, and such a kind heart. No one I know inspires me, in fact people only disappoint me. No one shows me great bravery or great nobility, great art, great compassion, great anything.They show what they are proud of…money and faith, but I am not impressed. They show me greed. Michael Jackson sure inspires me. I hear a lot of these delusional robots blindly going on and on about their great faith but your goddamn faith does not impress me. You can keep your cheap excuses, your delusion your blind eye to cruelty, I am not impressed. I wish I could make a difference. for once in my life…It’s going to feel real good, ……going to make it right.

How many guns would jesus own?

pangardenstudio — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:33:07 +0000

if he were alive today? How many deer would jesus kill this ‘deer season’? You tell me.

Tea with Kuan Yin

pangardenstudio — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 11:22:20 +0000

This morning I am having my green tea on the patio, with the early morning light, the sun not quite up…..a marble head of Kuan Yin smiles over me and my precious cats that join me. It is peaceful and I am comforted by deep compassion and truth. Just me, the cats, Kuan Yin and the beauty of a new day, yet unspoiled.The cup, aesthetic transferware, in some Orientalist pattern of Pekin or Chang or Chusan…two beautiful chips on the rim, remind me of a previous owner, and there I make the connection, as well as to the artist that decorated it in polychromed glazes. I contemplate the temporary nature of this moment, of all things……I remember the words of the Buddha about death…

Life is a journey

death is a return to earth

the universe is like an inn

the passing years are like dust

regard this phantom world, as a star at dawn, a bubble in a stream, a flash of lightning in a summer cloud, a flickering lamp, a phantom, a dream.

This morning I remember my sweet companion, Snookie, my cat, slaughtered by some mindless illiterate hillbilly here in the land of the lost, of violence, ignorance,prejudice and murder,here in the land of guns and bibles.

Kuan Yin smiles sweetly at me as I sip my early morning tea, her countenance set in stone…Basho needs her head rubbed. Yoko licks my hand. The new kittens play, unware.

Like a bubble in a stream, like a star at dawn…….we all are.

Potential is more exciting than Accomplishment, as art

pangardenstudio — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 23:16:18 +0000

I am designing my current gardens, with elements and features that will be installed, only to be abandoned. or to be carefully constructed to appear that way. Maintenance will be highly studied but will appear to not exist. pots turned over but blooming things still growing from them as if by accident….it will be a stage set, in time. I have always noticed in the past, in all of my house restorations, all of my life, that what always, always excited me the most was to stumble upon the perfect house in the perfect state of decay, so that it was the pure potential for its restoration that would thrill me so. It is the journey and not the destination that has the truest meaning. I once thought of marketing a house that way….to install old arbors, abandoned lily ponds, and elements that would create that very excitement to potential buyers, that THEY had found a great old undiscovered jewel. That is what all of my houses have been for me, for they have all been at one time perfect and high- style and elegant, they had all suffered the ravages of time and neglect and poorer and poorer taste with each layer of societies degeneration. I have restored them to perfection but it will always be that first shot of them, in all their raw potential that will excite me the most. There is some sort of law of successive redecortaions of homes I have noticed whereby each layer is sloppier than the one before. A home is built, proud and correct, then the first layer of paint is laid on the old wood, carefully at first, because the house is still not old. 20 years go by, the second painting is done and this time it is not quite so careful. It has been painted anyway, so if a little gets on the wall, or on the hardware…..well….it’s been painted once. A few more years go by and the woodwork is painted yet again, but this time, it has been painted twice before, so it is not done so carefully this time and some runs and drools are left to stay and a little more gets on the backplate and hinges. Finally, years later, under different circumstances, different times, different styles……a new generation that always knows better, and this time when it is painted, they are very careless and paint runs and drools even worse. Trash is trapped in the bad paint job and carelessly not trimmed against the wall, and now, even the hinges and hardware receive the paint too. Now, time has passed, and we are at the level of the potential. We see through the paint, we see through the bad decisions, the trends that come and go, and see the original intention of the architect, and it is here where we connect. Eventually some queen does do it right, does it justice, brings it back to its full glory with taste, but, what we dream of at night is to stumble upon another treasure hidden under the layers. So, my garden will have old leaning pergolas and abandoned trails, evidence of something once beautiful and proud, now in decay, and it will be as art, as an hommage to potential, to youth, to life…….This beautiful secret of hidden potential is also why I love my cats, because I have seen and found the great jewel, the great potential they have to save us from the ugliness in life. Like abandoned architecture in a vulgar and tasteless society, never seeing truth or art or beauty that is always available to them….my cats are the great treasure, the potential I have found where others are blind. I believe it is important for everyone to have a relationship with a cat in his one life on this planet, to not miss out, to realize the hidden truth. I think also we should have a relationship with a cow, a pig and a chicken too, but I am a mere, humble artist, what do I know about life and art and truth and beauty. I know it lies in the hidden potential of all things, in cats, in abandoned houses, in abandoned architecture, in abandoned gardens, and…… in abandoned people.

Art and Truth and Beauty are where you find them

pangardenstudio — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 16:01:53 +0000

I was eating peanuts from the Russian brass bowl that I always use for peanuts…..the salted, in the shell kind. It is part of the process, to have to shell each one……My cat Chigger likes these peanuts too. Usually I shell one, bite into it to break it up into smaller pieces, so she won’t choke on a big piece, and she eats it, on the bed, next to the bowl. Sometimes all she wants to do is lick the salt from the shells from the peanuts in the bowl. So, often we share this experience, she….licking the salty shells, and I, cracking them one at a time, both of us at the bowl…..Most people would shoo her away from the bowl. Some people would not even let their pet on the bed. But of course, these people should not have pets. I realized this morning, how special, how sacred, these moments are, in bed, on a pretty old quilt, a beautiful golden bowl, my precious cat Chigger and me, eating peanuts in bed. These are the moments I treasure the most, the ones most people disregard without thought, always wasting potential, on pointless other things. There are no other things any more important. I am lucky to have this secret. I am lucky to have this warm sense of peace in my heart, of goodwill, of art……….lucky to have this polite companion to share my life.

Industrialism has killed the animal within us

pangardenstudio — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 20:50:17 +0000

Again today the passion flower vine is covered in blooms. There must be 100 of them. I make tea from the dried leaves and flowers. gifts from nature. I am the animals and the plants. I am ancient, pagan…I am connected to all natural things, all plants, all animals, rocks and stars. The moon will be full tonight. We will dance the ancient dance, and celebrate the beauty, the truths of nature. Far removed from a society that has forgotten and betrayed its sacred roots, I am alone in the world,……….. but not in the woods.

“If we are ever to rise up from the dead and regain our rightful place in nature, we will hve to do more than put our faith in the state, the party, or technology- all of which are mere props of industrialism. We will have to tap the saving energies that now lie buried in ourselves and in nature. And that means we will have to summon forth powers that have not been known since the days of the shamans.”………Arthur Evans

Celebrations of Beauty

pangardenstudio — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 00:57:05 +0000

I do them all them time, in countless ways. They are one of the things that give life meaning to me and save my spirit in this vulgar tasteless world. My new super white damask tablecloth from eBay came in today. It has woven into the design, a greek key border and moire design in strips. I buy these beautiful vintage pieces of linen all the time because of the feel, the luxury, the beauty. This afternoon the blue passion vine on the pergola is in full bloom. They have the same sweet grape kool aid scent as Texas mountain laurel. They too are elegant, luxurious, and rare…… I use the fabric as a sheet. Upon it now are about a dozen fresh passion vine blooms. The air is scented. It is a celebration of beauty. It is civilized, peaceful, beautiful here. Yoko jumps up and smells the flowers. She needs her head rubbed. What gorgeous patterns she also has in her fur. What a sweet cat she is. We are safe within these walls.

We are the raccoons and the raccoons are us

pangardenstudio — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 00:15:42 +0000

I feed as many raccoons as cats out here. Over the summers I have watched them grow and can identify them as individuals. The mothers bring the baby raccoons to eat, and to play in the plastic pond of water I keep for them. They love the water. They love fruit and peanuts, bananas…..last week I gave them a peach pie but they like cat crunchies better than anything. I buy cat food in bulk. Every year a new crop of babies. I love to watch them when they come to eat, and they eat peacefully along side my cats. I love the raccoons. One that comes around, I can see that she is old. She moves awkwardly up the steps, probably in pain from arthritis……Her tail has lost a lot of hair, and she has a bluish cataract on one eye. I love her. We may all get old one day and have difficulty walking. I hope when I am old and hungry someone will be there to care for me too.

Do you read the palms of old people’s hands?

pangardenstudio — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 11:53:14 +0000

for what purpose but to confirm. No one needs to look at their hands to confirm how many loves they had in life, how many loses, how many children…….the backs of their hands probably reveal more.

osmanthus dreams

pangardenstudio — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 10:36:41 +0000

Last night as I drifted off to the magical realm of dreams, I lit a small stick of Japanese flower incense, the scent of Osmanthus flowers. Such a rich, sweet scent it is…..the perfect scent to drift off to equally sweet dreams. A single candle this night, all night, just enough to illuminate bits and pieces of gold and red, of patterns in carpets. A small fan kept a cool breeze on me. It is quiet, dark, peaceful, calm, cool, and beautiful. I dreamed of a world of peace, of kindness, of beauty. I visited dead friends. In the morning the candle had gone out, the Osmanthus still lingered. I move slowly back into the earthly plane. There was great beauty, but it was all a dream. Iwoke up, turned on tv and it is a world of hate and ugliness, of endless war, of cruelty and ignorance. I am safe in my little osmanthus dreams at night. My cats join me and I am so so glad that my cats are unaware of the ugliness of the world. I am glad I can provide only osmanthus dreams for them. I strive to maintain the peace, the beauty, even in the waking world and I am usually very successful, until I turn on tv or step one foot into the world outside these walls. Peace is mine. beauty is everywhere. My heart is filled with kindness and good will. It is enough. I need no dogma. Peace and beauty exist on their own. It is up to me to find the way, find the light, to find the purpose within my own heart.