Yesterday, Sunday, I was privileged to sit and visit for a few hours with friends and the artist Alex Greyand his wife, artist Allyson Grey, in their workspace (and great hang) behind their Chapel of Sacred Mirrors gallery in Chelsea.

 I do not want to say much, as i was just along for the ride as it were. And privacy is becoming more and more a commodity in this life. I only wish to document briefly how gracious this man and woman were to me. We had all met once before. Still, I was in the space of great artists, while they talked and worked. In the early moments, before Alex arrived (not expecting company), it dawned on me that I was sitting on a leather couch with my boots off staring into a large masterwork of his, in progress. I felt immediately like a man having a vision that he shouldn't yet be having. I got up, thinking I should move, somewhere, anywhere. Allyson asked where I was going. It set in quickly that we were IN their workspace, not just an office. I had read the Mission of Art some years earlier. 3 times I think. I had never seen an Alex Grey painting in the flesh (of the Mind).

And here was one being painted while the talking went on. I watched Alex many times stop his work to give his attention to one of us. I watched him turn away from a painting that will be remembered outside of time. And I thought 'I wonder if God does this.' Stops creation to listen to the prayers of a child.

Alex and Allyson Grey showed me what Grace is yesterday.

The pond that contains all us little fish be getting smaller. i have been a long-time listener to Whitley Strieber's Dreamland radio show. Now Daniel Pinchbeck, author of 2012: The Return of Queztalcoatl, has a new '(we)blog' called Reality Sandwich. I threw down a quick post and am finding myself part of a community of thought and nascent action where I feel rather comfortable. Pinchbeck's blog Sans' post Comment on Sans' post

Like a goldfish. I'm not really aware that my world already contains all the fish I have met, and will ever meet. So to make the most out of this brief habitat. And not worry terribly about what's happening in the next pond. There is much to explore, experience, and master here. Goldfish don't portage. Unless, of course, they take the fatal sacraments, and find that air is water, and water air. Just what do goldfish wonder when they're swimming under there?