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Journal Entry
By Cary Jones
February 7, 2001
Yesterday, Ben and I took all 30 photographs down to the Art Access
Gallery for the show. They were all framed in black, all done! The best
we could make. We were thrilled and mortified at the same time. I've been
thinking about one image I made, "Coming to This," the image
of a locked gate with leaves on the drive. I wrote about riding by bike
up those lanes when I was young, and imagining the cottage beyond. Not
knowing what was there because the gate is locked. It dawned on me that
this image is where I am right now in my life. It is a metaphor for knowing
that you are going to embark down that lane, you hope that the destination
is going to be peaceful, beautiful, a cottage in the woods. But you don't
know for sure, you stand behind a locked gate (this life, this viewpoint).
Is death the final unlocking of the gate?
It is also the feeling, or a knowledge way down inside, that the journey
and destination (if there is a destination) will be good even if you don't
know what it is. Does this make sense? I guess I wonder if the afterlife
will be a place or a journey? I think even souls would get tired of never
settling down, so if I could describe heaven it would be a small, shingled
cottage in the woods. Birds, animals, a river and loved ones would be
there. I know this is literal and simple-minded, but the essence of these
things would be heaven.
I remember riding down those lanes; the trees, the houses tucked away
from the street. I would ride to the canal and watch the water skitters
skim along the surface. It was when I was young enough to enjoy being
by myself, just out exploring. It was before adolescence, when I discovered
longing, a need for companionship. Of course, I was always glad to be
out exploring, knowing that I could return to the comfort of home and
family. I do miss going out on walks, being outside. In an urban environment
you have to search for pockets of wilderness.
The days seem to go by so fast, it seems I do a few errands, go to lunch
with Ben, straighten up a few spots in the house, read a little, and it
is time for dinner. Today, the snow fell all day; a heavy, wet snow. Ben
told me that despite so many storms, this year's snow pack is still low.
It seems that with the economy going down, Bush in the White House, earthquakes
in India, and drought in the West - the world is going to hell and I'm
in the hand-basket, as the bumper sticker says.
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