I stood over the glass display, so clear Sherlock Holmes' monocle would certainly prove futile - no finger print, no belly lint, no DNA detected here. The enclosed case, doing just what a fine art gallery display should do: focusing the critique's attention on the enclosed crown jewel - in this case, a well positioned, quite erect blown glass masterpiece. A swirling, swelling, serpentine face in every color of the glass bubble gum rainbow. So haunting, so reveiling, the onlooker is left feeling responsible for the world's perversion - wondering if every act of originality hasn't been subliminal "sin" since that metaphoric apple bite in the Garden of Eden. And if that is the case, if innocent sin really isn't just a natural desire for growth where stagnancy existed before. Oh, how art asks the questions not meant to be answered.

Most of the display case artwork was well above my spending limit for...um....the entire month. But the Big Spender Who Could certainly spent her money well, for in addition to owning a character-releaving oracle and magnificent coffee table conversation piece, the owner will also be able to enjoy the finest herbs - passion flower, white willow, chamomile, and any other fine herb freedom will alow - via this chef-d'oeuvre. Each fine glass piece of art doubling as a high-class glass smoking pipe for those who wish to truely create ritual out of sacred plants and their bodies.

Intelligent hip-hop was spun over the sound system. Creatively dressed twenty-somethings danced a bit at the door. A group of jovial men stood in a circle. Absolutely no one coughed.

In the summer evening air on the back patio, I felt profound unto myself as I gazed over Commercial Dr. alley murals, a few potted flowers, the occasional Harley Davidson cruising slowly through. The Bikram Yoga instructor from next door talked Love. A fellow Rasta talked truth with simple words. The owner provided one of his favorite masterpieces for the table to enjoy. When we all finished our ritual in smoke, we worshiped plants this time in the stomach. Freshly juiced greens, local and in season tomatoe-based soup, basil salad dressing fresh picked from patio pot. All served with a smile from the most powerfully life-loving equal I have met in a long time - The Living Source's raw chef. That smile. These plants. This art gallery / raw cafe / Safety Zone. There is no where else in North America doing this. How did everything happen so perfectly in my life to lead me to this very moment?

Just another question not meant to be answered.

0 comments Links to this post