I think an alternative way to view it, still continuing with the embodied angle on the art of life, would be to compare the work of winds to the work of a tattooist. With the only difference that a tattooist performs a work with an eye at the final result, creating, consciously, a work of art in collaboration with the body and the will and the consciousness of the person who ordered the tattoo. Here, in the work of wind, there is little attention to the final result and often a complete discard of the person's will and consciousness; the winds are not interested in the body they erode. The process takes center stage. And yet, there is collaboration and there is embodiment; and there is art. This art becomes possible not because of the winds, but because of the will and the consciousness and the body - in short, it is an embodied decision of the landscape to accommodate to the winds in a way that creates beauty. And this is not rhetorical and not granted; beauty is not an automatic act - non-being is. As a choice between being silent forever, or turning the trauma into a poem. As a choice between responding with crushing violence, or with a question . As a choice between taking responsibility for speaking one's truth, or engaging in the maintenance of the acceptable lies. Overall, beauty is being, power-fully, over-comingly, profoundly, oneself.
As a choice between being silent forever, or turning the trauma into a poem.
As a choice between responding with crushing violence, or with a question .
As a choice between taking responsibility for speaking one's truth, or engaging in the maintenance of the acceptable lies.
Overall, beauty is being, power-fully, over-comingly, profoundly, oneself.
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