The time is now

Mother Eunomia

Billionaires,

Your legacy can't be this. To die the most hated, as the world falls to pieces, in the name of your game of profit. The meanest, the worst, the most vile. Do you think the problems are not solvable? Is that why you continue to enact your cynical amassing and hoarding? But please, take heart, because it is all solvable. With the right foundations and emergent models, with the information we already have about how people behave and how systems work. Three generations, a hundred years. Or seven generations if you prefer the conservative estimate. But your legacy is to begin it, right. To put in place the foundations and the vision and the safeguards for ethical implementation. To use your funds instead of bombs and bullets, bombs of funds, bullets of funds, to eradicate the enemies of poverty, oppression, destruction, and exploitation, as you root out an enemy. Create an industry of peace. If you don't know how, ask me. You took all the resources of the world under your wing, so you have chosen the responsibility to use those resources to save the world you've destroyed to amass them. You need to shift your game, now. NOW.

All that is left when any of us die is dust dissipated into this planet of life, as long as it lives. Please let it live. 

Tangled

Tangled (CAI 2019)

There is not a direction my mind turns that isn't laced with worry. I think every person I care about has reasons I worry for them, from close to distant, to the world as a whole. I reach around in my mind and I can't settle on anyone who is just doing well. There is no safe haven for my thoughts, no space in which I feel secure in good feelings, not even sleep anymore. My painting is filled with angst, my writing is stalled by inadequacy, most of my days are filled with repetitive maintenance trying to stave off erosion, and I'm tired and in pain most of the time. Too many of the people in the world seem to be in a self-destructive thrall that is more and more threatening to just general peaceful coexistence. I feel like my voice is unhearable, I am invisible, and only platitudes ever even try to assail that sense.