ED, Children at the night beach, 6X8, acrylic, yupo 2012
Make yourself
un-useful, say a word and listen to the sound of your voice, open yourself to
the endless non-meanings of what you said, are seeing, going to do. I am at awe
with the blind and deaf man who makes discoveries. He is struck with joy.
Is it because of what he sees or what he doesn’t see? He takes my wrists in his
hands and gently feels my skin, and then he makes a guess. His smile is getting
bigger. For him it is a joy of recognition. I feel grateful, but can’t linger.
He has time for everyday explorations; I, on another hand, have work to do.
What is my work, precisely? I write in a log about the young blind and deaf man
who felt my wrist and recognized me in the hallway. Some other animal of my
herd will read it and attach the price tag to my line completing another day of
our busy lives with perfect sense. I watch the joy of those who I serve. I get
its meaning. The meaning of joy brings satisfaction to my life along with
monitory compensations. My life makes sense, which is stuck to me like shit.
Oh, please, cut the crap. Have courage to make yourself un-useful.
