“The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist” – Robert Jordan
Call it recycling, call it born again, believing in past lives, or travelling around the universe with the same group of souls over and over again, unless you are anti-theist and believe it’s a one and done deal, most folks out there believe in the circle of life. Acceptance of one of these belief systems is a coping mechanism of the human mind, as we try to understand the infinite in what to our perspective can only be finite because it is measured. By what, you say? Time. We call it a lifespan. We’re conceived, shot out of a vagina, fed, shit, are shat upon, grow up, shit on others, and we die shitting ourselves. If we are lucky, we find those brief glimmers of life where it isn’t all shit, and there is something to believe in.
Like, the Gargoyle Room.
The Gargoyle Room was the dream child of my Love and I. He wanted a bar, I wanted an event venue. We compromised and got creative. He pointed out the obstacle of remodeling this basement room in an old Masonic Temple, considering the organization we were working for would not release funds (that were available, mind you) for such remedial tasks as modernization and code compliance. We would need to install a three station sink, serve some sort of food, have code compliant ice machines, and the list went on. So I said, well, we can still have an event venue, so let’s run an event every single night of the week. People show, great! If not, no harm done. Want to have a Record Good Time and spin some vinyl? Go for it. Want to show off your talents on stage? We’re open to that. We even had an improv group entitled “Playing on Orange Couches”, named for the repurposed 1960’s burnt orange sofas, loveseats, and chairs that filled the eclectically designed space . We had great music events, open mic, and karaoke. This was a child born out of love and creativity that I sank all of the goodness and kindness and heartfelt will and intent that I ever had. It was borne out of pure intention, for people of the heart of America to have a place that they could go to that was not a skank-a-way, or a red light meet up. This was something for the pure of heart, meant to imbue and inspire the hearts of creatives and lost souls. Even the custom cocktails that were served were meant to honor the Masons who came before, and who had chosen to donate the building to us. The Salina Blue Iced Tea was a legend in and of itself. M&M, I have not forgotten you.
No event had the impact, though, like Paint a Ceiling Tile Night.
When I first met Love he introduced me to the Tarot and Jungian psychology. It was not in the way that you might think, but that story is for him and him only, not for this audience. I learned that the Tarot was not a way of telling someone’s fortune, but rather it was a mirror that we could look at and help us discern the truth about what is on our hearts. The Medieval Scapini deck is rich in symbolism and each card has many things to look at. What I started to realize is that I saw something different on each card every time I looked at it. That depending on the condition of my heart, I might be seeing symbols for life, or arrogance, or innocence, or hunger, of danger or true love, and it could be different every time I looked at the card as to what jumped out at me. Anyone who tells you that they can give you a reading, Love says, is only doing it for entertainment value. What I learned though, is that when he gave a reading, he was really speaking of the symbols that he saw and was projecting his intent.
So, back to the ceiling tiles. I had this idea as I was getting a cat scan for something or other at the hospital. Above me were ceiling tiles and the panels that covered the lights were translucent, with a static cling sky and cloud scene. It was magical to look up, at what could have just as easily been left a harsh florescent bulb, and find this serene peaceful cloud scene. Clouds have always brought me comfort, which is another story for another time. But I remember mentioning this to Love and him thinking it was a great idea. He wanted to start by having some tiles done, so that it would give some inspiration to the room (fake it till you make it works in business), and suggested painting the 21 major Arcana in the tarot deck. We got right down to it, soliciting some help from friends, volunteers, and even the foundation director. One lovely lady traced, some others painted, others made a downright mess. Some obvious takers decided not to be involved. Love painted the Magician. He always fancied himself a wizard and as we were in a palace in the middle of nowhere Kansas, it seemed the perfect choice for him. The director chose the Star. A good friend, The Fool. As these were non-descript vague tarot cards, unless you truly understood the intent behind the card, it was hard to understand from the symbolism what you were choosing – the simplicity in these designs led for creative license, and opportunity to explore and express yourself.
The first one that I chose had a wheel that looked like a ship’s steering wheel, with a pharaoh in the center. Two serpents flanked the wheel on the top and bottom of the card, number 10 in the series. I only recently learned that this card is the Wheel of Fortune. I took special interest in painting this tile, working to create a clear colorful image. I filled in all of the outlined forms, and when satisfied with the result, created a background not on the original card – diamond shaped blue and green tiles, I worked for several days, coming back to it to make sure that each tile had light and balance of color and shading.
The next tile I chose was The Lovers. Again, in a simple non-descript design, a male and female figure, with a tree growing betwixt. This one I painted darkly, black and red and dark blue sky behind. Inside each of the lovers I created a heart, but each heart was surrounded by the black exterior. As for the Tarot, these were the last that I finished, however I painted two others – one, a lollipop and lips, and another a field of varying size circles turned into water droplets, again with the same green and blue motif of the Fortune Wheel. I never got the chance to finish this one. It was painstaking to make, but I wanted to make certain that the final product was the very best I could produced.
Curious this all is as it relates to the tarot, and why I chose the cards that I did, and what the meaning was behind my art. Because, all art has meaning. I remember explaining my view of art to Love early on, with all sincerity. And I quote “To explore one’s creativity is to touch the divine, and to deeply experience the work of another deepens our humanity.” So the lollipop? Lol, a little fun I had on a broomstick, maybe not the most loving kind thing in the world I have done, but it sure was great retribution for Colfax (another story on its way, I promise!), and was an act of empowerment, as I turn men to jelly with a lollipop, with a lollipop, with a lollipop, and without even trying to be seductive. But when I try, they lick their lips in spite of themselves, and cruel women quake and beg for forgiveness and kindness as I hand them their own trash. Some women do it with a banana flavor taffy- whatever, you cannot account for Love’s taste or tact or lack of class or decency or even discretion. At least someone found a conscience there, and is already forgiven a thousandfold.
The second tile of circles partially finished, these are water droplets, reflecting the tiles of the Wheel of Fortune. I have no idea when the tears will stop falling, for they seem to be in endless supply. I have no idea when the loss of Love or who I thought Love was will end. I have no way of knowing if all of these tears are only my own, reflected in this pool. I have no way of knowing even if I was told, for I mind what people do over what they say. I Hope they understand what the last orange actions bespoke of intent. Actions speak louder than words. All we have is time.
I see you.
Glinda was the Good Witch of the North. Glinda was never given a whole lot of credit, but she deserves it. Those Red Ruby Slippers were never magic to begin with. The power was within Dorothy to return home whenever she so chose. But, that’s another story. I was asked early on if I was a good witch or a bad witch. I chose good. I still do. Chaotic positive. Roll the bones. Come out from behind your curtain, Wizard. I see your feet.
“We don’t have to talk. We don’t even have to touch. I can feel your presence in the silence that we share. Nothing changes faster than the speed of love. My heart goes out to you.” -Neil Peart
Matthew 18:21-22
Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.
Luke 17:3-4
#thegargoyleroom #robertjordan #wheeloftime #neilpeart #rush #jung #psychology #forgiveness #candy #thedoodlebug
A Walk In Neverland 