MISS SARAH PHIM!!

Sarah Phim is Stick 24. The image shows a blue band with white on either side. That blue is beech. The wood on either side is also beech, but dyed in two stages, using orange and a different shade of blue. It doubles the time to do it that way, but the result is just kinda awe inspiring.

I think about the intelligence it takes to write a book, and it is considerable, ahem; uh, but then I consider the intelligence required to choose the vibrations, the right wavelengths for the energy to form matter, then combine to the right chemicals, then write the biogeneteic code that produced that wood grain: manifest Mind into energy into real living matter, that self reproduces so that His original Art is remade over and over in infinite new patterns… mind formed into matter that holds its form for ages…. That stands as a testament to the massive creative intelligence of the Almighty.

I am appropriately humbled and awed.

I’ve been trying to find moments every day to just sit outside and enjoy the fact that I exist. There are a hell of a lot of atoms out there. There’s a hell of a lot of space that doesn’t even enjoy having atoms in it. But just focusing on the atoms, there’s a shit ton — and very damn few are conscious.

That’s my point.

Very damn few of those that are conscious are sentient, and of those, very few live in a time and place that treats ordinary assholes like me as kings. I eat almost as I choose, watch what I choose, read, say, whatever. I live in a carnival, compared to most human beings in history, and that’s nothing.

I live in a carnival, self aware and righteous, while most atoms don’t even get to enjoy mind at all.

I like to sit outside and look at the sky and be thankful for all of that. Everything I just wrote — I’m thankful for that every day, as many chances as I get. Clear the mind of anything except the moment, and be grateful for it.

You, each of us, is prize shelf space.

Or to hit it from an earthier angle:

We are animals grown up out of the muck for the specific purpose of poising atop the chariot a cabin with a bio-computer called a brain, which combines real time awareness, local memory, genetic memory, all while the soul sits in a pilot’s chair with its arms and legs strapped in, gagged, unable to protest as we carry on like assholes to one another, drink, smoke, chew, and cuss ourselves to death. Or whatever your particular cocktail of vices. Whatever. I feel you.

But the time for those days is gone. Not because you’re a certain age, but because the world is entering a time when neither the despots that run it nor the Creator ready to call us to account will tolerate our childishness.

Read Revelation. Hard times for everyone. Not like today, the last gasp of the perpetual party of corruption and lust during the last days of Empire. We’re entering the fall.

We have some truly rotten people running things, and I suspect that isn’t going to be any different in a week.

I’ve been feeling more and more the gentle tug at my heart. Sometimes it feels more like a chain that’s been grapple-hooked through my left ventricle, this insisting awareness that it matters more and more how we conduct our affairs, these days. Our Creator, I believe from talking to others, is awakening more and more people with this same awareness: get your shit right. Living right matters. Standing for good matters. Trusting Him matters — because we’re entering a time when nothing and no one else will stand with us.

Anyhow, the video is celebratory in nature, and Sarah Phim is a celebratory name-word. Angels beside the Mind behind it all…

The image, to me, looks like the frame captured the Almighty’s Holy Zazzle right after His attention passed through the wood, creating it. And the wood, like the Shroud of Turin, repeats forever a faint echo of that Glory.

I guess I’d say that about all art, whether made by a goldfish, human or our Creator.