There is a vast difference between going supine before one’s oppressors and surrendering to the vast, ineffable order of the heart of creation. The task is ongoing—and arduous, even, at times, terrifying. It involves a drowning—a baptism of sorts, but of the poetic (not fundamentalist) variety— a washing away of calcified habit and a rebirth by an immersion in the embracing waters of a larger order—one that is not defined by a compulsion for domination of the things of the world one cannot control.
Was Vincent “eccentric”? Is any of us eccentric when we allow ourselves to look and to see what is occurring on our planet? What happens to us when we do so? Certainly, we are called “troubled” or “mad” by some. But isn’t madness actually quite the opposite? Are we not “mad” or “troubled” if we do not allow ourselves to see? Does seeing really make us mad, or does it do something else?