Michael Rastovich

As we feel the sun upon our faces Does the sun also, feel our faces

When we feel the wind upon our cheeks
Does the wind also, feel our cheeks

When we hear the waves a crashing
Do the waves know, that we are listening

Do the stars sense our wonder

Does the storm see us trembling

I suspect that it is so.

Do not make believe
Make it be real
Draw what you desire
A picture is worth
A thousand prayers

We will never run out of weather.

Some people think of me, as a lazy slob.

I think of me, as effortless.

Life is like a picture, of travelers on a track, standing in a sunny spot within their present travail. With crevasse and spans so vast, the weather forms, and far beyond the storms, as far as one can see, a mountain shines. Lit by one same sun. The That which they are moving towards.

And so my friends, it’s plain to see, if you keep to the sunny spot within your every travail, and always remember, the That which you are moving towards, your life will always be, as pretty as a picture.

I have found to truly know a place, one must spend enough time there, to take a nap, or make a painting.

Time enough for the creatures there to call you Brother. Time enough that distance dissappears.

I have often pondered the purpose of producing art. The paint, the process, or the picture? I thought perhaps if I could perceive, which of these was most important to the perfection of a painting, it might help in my pursuit of improvement.

I found the question to be persistently perplexing and had given up asking when it occurred to me that there must be something more.

The paint, the process and the picture, are all important parts, but there is something more that makes it art. And that is play and presence.

Thank you for your patience and if you please I offer this, Art can not be made at all. Art is the result of something else altogether.

I now proclaim and present myself to be, artist en plien presence.

Artist in full presence.

Yours in Play,

Michael Rastovich

Some things, some of the very best things, can not be manifested at all. These things, these special moments, will be a surprise, a very pleasant surprise. and we will be so filled by it, that we will not think to name it. These nows to come, will not exist to even be remembered. We will tumble out laughing, and not remember why. How do we honor such things, that we can not even wish for? For these, I offer this –

And so it is soon.

I was watching, the other day, a documentary about a group of primative native people living in isolation in a very remote jungle. And of course everyone was running around naked.

Did you know, that there are native tribes that all have blurry wieners?

My generation. The hippies. We put flowers in our hair and danced in sun. We imagined a world better than this one. But when the cold winds of Winter began to blow, we realized the world does not readily change. So we rode it out, and then we retired.

Perhaps making a world for ourselves wasn’t enough. Perhaps the world heard our wishes and has been making herself ready.

My friends. My generation. This is our time. Our time to make the world we imagined. Not for ourselves, but for forever.

For those of you still wondering how, I offer ths; Listen to the music of our generation. Get your friends to sing along. Remember when we were We.

Peace and Love

Michael Rastovich