Letter to 2015

So another year begins…

I find myself more every day, and 365 pieces of have fallen into place in 2014. Writing has shown me my destiny, the words of my favorite writers have become faded and worn thin–so we begin again. 2015, this is my letter to you.

To put it simply, contemporary work doesn’t reach me where I want to be reached. It lacks humanity that makes me feel. Why? Because we don’t use it anymore. It being humanity, which is and has been our refuge in this unforgiving world. We have made our lives more comfortable-for fear that lack of comfort is our enemy. We see now that it isn’t. Where are the new writers that are in the vein of the old immortals? Our current hasn’t stopped injustice to humanity or violation of the soul, but has been dulled down, the cries sound like they are underwater. If someone can feel comfortable in this, then there is something that I don’t want to know.

As we read something, we compare it to our internal sense of truth. If we are not writing to compel our higher senses, then what is the point? The world is still an uninhabitable place for the sensitive heart, compassion is a stranger out of place. We of the sensitive kind still have to carve our place in the world, because it doesn’t understand. People feel they can’t live, they don’t see their reflection when they look out into the world and think that they don’t exist. So 2015, you and me are going to have to change this.

Art has never meant “self expression” for me, instead it has been the way I connect to people. Art as communication is sacred because it is so pure, it permeates through the barriers of reality and for a moment, you are one consciousness. Amazing, truly a gift from god.

Remember–Reality is illusion, death is real.

Let’s do some cool things.

K.S.