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This ring is the disparity portal

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  This ring is the disparity portal What are our cognitive struggles? Metamodernist art by JJFBbennett The glass ring doesn't just divide the canvas; it bridges two entirely different eras of the soul. Look to the left. You see that heavy, anxious abstract expressionism—thick, turbulent strokes of purple and white paint colliding in a chaotic swirl. It’s the noise of modern anxiety, the visceral weight of our internal cognitive struggles. But follow the curve of the glass to the right, and the world opens up into an almost naive, idyllic landscape. Soft green hills, a quiet, winding river, and a pastoral peace that feels like a memory of a place we’ve never actually been. It’s intentionally a bit ironic, a bit nostalgic—a digital dream of simplicity. This ring is the disparity portal itself. It is a lens balancing on the fine line of metamodernism, suspended between cynical detachment and sincere hope. And if you look closely right there on the upper-left curve of the glass, I left...
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Godin Defence: Why can't everything just stay the same?

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Life promised so much but little favour came my way. And over this vista of nothingness I claimed what is mine. I waited for all of the promises and yet none did come. Others more fortunate gained splendor, but splendor was not me. And I gained self respect on other's misfortune. But your misfortune is not of my concern. Count your blessings and rot in your tragedy. Yes it will end in tears should you trespass my den. I do not travel,  my miracle is here. I remained close to my heritage. This colonial might. This is God's country, he gave it to me. I will deny you entry. You are contagion, you are far less than me. There are trees in my backyard, insects and lizards. Rodents scamper at my feet and bats by my ears. My dog is obedient. In silence we sit. Impatient and anxious , I do not want change. In dark moments I tend to my spite. With bottle in hand I seek like-minded. A good  man I have been. I have done no wrong. My house is clean. My ga...
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Ubud It happens in this time.

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It happens in this time. Within all of this hassell and bustle, there is peace to be found. It matters that our approach of founding is addressed. If we don't walk so fast,  if our minds are rested. We will have found this, where and whenever we intend understanding. Time were ritual is small,  place where space is eternal. There is a pattern to making sense. Personalised and collective. Forget the calling of the influential and competitive. Forget the combatants. Attempt to day dream. Fall over the drawn line. Re-position and let each door open wide. So much to see in so many small spaces. A universe in each unearthed cavity. There are many gods who nonsensically watch us. All whispering whilst we restrictively rant. They have privileged loss. They have fallen from superiority to obscurity. Their stories are silent whilst we are glorious in distraction. Fall with them, dream with them,  be at mind with them. Within each fall, the...
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