I love inconsistency; the ironies and contradictions that reveal life to be death’s clown-face, its game of mirrors, its carrousel of painted horses that fly, its pantheon of gods colorful, superficial as a phantasmagoria in Las Vegas appealing to all our senses. Chariots ridden by androgynous young women and men indulging their and everyone’s penchant for the seemingly unreal which in reality is reality stretched to the upper limits of enchantment, magic and the clown’s raison d’etre.

It’s the life that appears escapist, but is actually the goal of man’s creative impulse. The spirit that enchants, telling us life is indeed worthwhile, but not for the reasons we thought in our somber hours, our hours of business and politics, our time spent dealing with the bureaucracy of quotidian concerns, bureaucracy itself, the concerns of a life that denies magic, enchantment, the clown’s knowledge, or at least his gift.

No, life is so much more, so much other than what bores the most creative among us, oppresses the most disadvantaged, tempts the ignorant to greedy enterprises, and kills the initiative of innocence and joy. Life is or ought to be the magic that annihilates or at least reduces the obligations most men and women think they owe to it.

Life should first and foremost be informed by the creativity that no one in his right mind could squelch in favor of the machinations of death occasioned by commerce and politics: money, lobbying, greed, material or ego power and the poverty of imagination conservatism lends itself to. The only hope against such pitiful conservatism and spiritual death is the clown’s humor, the delightful craziness of his wisdom that puts priests and politicos to shame. Gives the white rose its blush, the murderer his remorse. Teaches us to make up our own reason for why we were born and stitch it to the tapestry covering all surfaces we sit on, lay in or look at.

This tapestry incorporates the child’s toy and the adult’s comeuppance, his or her nostalgia of a simpler time, souvenir of the journey innocence made to experience when neither were at odds or tried to outdo the other. When the white lies enchantment told were the truths that set us free.