Hand of Buddha in Mudra Abhaya,
between 17th and 18th century, copper alloy, Thai,
in the collection of the Detroit Institute of Arts.
Dear Many,
I send you your song for today. This is a beautiful piece of music; the kind that seems to be beyond words. Maybe you will want to play it, while you read on. Or, maybe you are in a hurry, and you will not stop for song or story; I hold my hand up to you in a mudra that signifies you go on with my encouragement and well-wishes.
I have been thinking of words and in words a lot, even though you haven't heard from me lately. The thing you must remember is that I think of you at least once a day, but I don't always compose myself and address you. I ask myself why not; and the answer is sometimes this: I don't have anything good enough to give right now; it's just fog and murk and low-level complaining. Or this: I cannot pretend that I believe things are okay, and that isn't a nice rumor to spread.
I dreamed that I stopped staying at a particular hotel, because every time I stayed there, in its beautiful old rooms with views, I was harangued by ghosts- they turned the light on and off all night; they opened and shut doors; they tried to get into the bed.
I dreamed that I had a very lovely studio, a huge space, and for some reason, I had hung up three or four large signs in the middle of the wall. In the course of showing someone my studio, I saw how stupid it was to put these big signs in the middle of the wall; the walls ought to be filled with visual information, with paintings: I had wasted all these years and this space on three big signs that were just some kind of didactic information that had been on walls in exhibits of my work; they were an explanation, the written validation of the works having been shown; just artifacts and evidence, a shred of paper streamer left after a parade.
Back in the world of thinking again, now, I ask you, if we decide to eschew even more of these absurd values that press down like billowing choking clouds of smoky obligation; if we aren't trying to be good, or right, or smarter, or better, or faster, or richer, just what are we going to be doing with our days?
