" The silence of snow, thought the man sitting behind the bus driver. If this were the beginning of a poem, he would have called the thing he felt inside him the silence of snow" (Orhan Pamuk, Snow) 
Dear Mary after our conversation I feel the desire to respond to you with what I have, a disorganized or perhaps perfect collage of thoughts. 
As of late I have been thinking of big questions, questions that we all have and don't ask each other, and therefore no one asks them to us. I've been asking these questions to Tim, Hannah, Erin, my closest friends, who I've been friends with for more than six years without ever asking them, what is death? What do you think happens when we die? Do you believe in god? What is beauty? What is true to you? Do you believe in a soul? What do you believe in with all your heart? What beliefs make you able to live your life? 
These questions make us chuckle with awe. These words said out loud sound foreign. And how have we never talked about this? After some minutes of shuffling we have started very honest, long conversations where it feels like we walk holding hands in silence in darkness. It's hard to admit how ignorant we are to the mysteries of life and yet we still give it our best shot to answer these impossible questions. These are very healing conversations we are taking care of each other's ignorance sharing opinions that have had no room to be exposed. They generate a spacetime full of curiosity and intimancy and wonder. 

Through these conversations I came to the idea of the soul like a snowflake, the fractal image of it, and a thought keeps coming up in me saying death is when we crash against the image of our souls. I don't fully understand what that means but wanted to share that thought with you. 

Could this be happening on a bigger sphere?could our institutions, our political systems, social constructs, economical models, be about to crash against their own image? 
Big mirror 
Confused still thinking that Other is anything but our reflection 
Could our core self be reflective? 
Big silence 
Big gaps of silence in between thoughts 
What is a human being made up of? Memories! Imagination! Reason! Intuition! Feelings! Shape, time, space, movement, emotion, story! And pulling it all together? Consciousness? Magnetism? Love? God? Glue? 
What keeps a snowflake together? Its perfection? its imperfection? Its accidents? Its frailty? 
An image that represents the power of will. 
After N crashes with his own image particles. Unnamed. NN 
Invisible to those who attach their lives to labels. 
Only quantum physics and us are able to see once everything has particalized. 

Our role as artists is like a prayer, guiding the Attention in times of utter confusion. A lot of people who need these labels, these names, will suffer greatly in these times because they're not used to the feeling of uncertainty, the feeling of not knowing, the feeling of being unable to move through abstract thoughts, ideas detached from meanings and utilitarian purpose. 

We have developed (through hard work) and continue developing (through hard work) some mastery in sprouting the unnecessary, in dancing with chaos, in caressing the abstract, in playing with chance, we are the original anarchists! Our will, our intuition and our hearts are braided! We are able to see the beauty in particles, to recognize inspiration, to develop artistic gratitude, to have telepathic relationships, and so many other unnamed things! 
We can change the conversation--walk hand in hand in the dark, in the silence
We have been promoted! At last the world needs us! 
Every snowflake falls with shimmering beauty
Merry Christmas, 

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