As much as I detest shameless promotion on the part of others, I'm afraid I have to resort to just a little bit of it myself simply because of my excitement about being able to offer others a way to own some neat stuff with the art I've created since the beginning of the year.

Recently, I began construction of an online shop with Cafepress to display and offer designs based on moths, dragonflies, cicadas, crows and ravens and whatever else becomes a creative obsession at "Naumaddic Arts".

I know of no other way to share these things with my friends here at Gaia in such a dramatic way. It is, of course, a work in progress which of which it is my hope in the near future to donate some of the proceeds to the fine work being accomplished by John Wood's "Room to Read" organization and other charitable world-changing causes I'm drawn to.

I hope you'll find there some beauty to bring into your own life and will communicate with me regarding what you see and certainly any inspired ideas or thoughts you might have along the way.

Peace, love, awe and long life. Genuine thanks for your time.

Naumadd

I've seen many attempts to answer this very question by those of genius, the insightful, both the highly and poorly educated, the notorious and the obscure. One thing is certain in all of these diverse answers - there is no single answer, nor is there an answer fitting for all generations - past, the present or those of the future. Certainly, what makes us "human" or all that we are has some common answers that are good in general conversation - opposable thumbs, our intelligence, our curiosity, our adaptability, etc. - but there is so much variance in those abilities amongst ourselves, one wonders how they can be a defining characteristic at all.

One interesting point of view about what makes us human is the suggestion that it is our ability to ask the question. But, of course, we ask the question because of another trait - our penchant for setting ourselves far apart from the rest of life here on Earth which is often taken to absurd extremes with implications reaching beyond this world and across the rest of the universe. Some among us not only believe a "human" is superior to other life here, but also superior to ALL life anywhere. The trait of setting oneself not simply apart from other life but high above all other life is sufficiently common to suggest it as our defining trait. At least three major religions are based on that premise. Nevertheless, there is also so much variance in that point of view as to rule it out as THE trait that defines us.

If I had to choose a single trait that seems to be at the root of us all, it would be our insanity. But I do not speak of this ubiquitous insanity as something that's incredibly wrong with our species but, instead, as all that is right with us. It is a quality nature seemed to have needed on Earth and, perhaps, elsewhere. Our intense curiosity, our lust for deep reflection, and our talent for memory all lead to our ability to make mental connections that go far beyond what is peaceful or serene and predictable sanity. It is this ability to connect what could not previously be connected by any other species which is observed as a continuous, nagging, insane absence of contentment. We are never satisfied with what has been or is, neither in the external world, with others like us, or with ourselves. We tinker with everything in our insane belief and attempt to improve upon or order the world to our own liking. As much as so many of us rail against technology, invention, creativity, i.e., the reordering of things, it is, in fact, the one trait we all possess and in such great degree that gifts all of nature that which it never before possessed - at least on Earth - the ability to leap beyond the usual, beyond the predictable, the patterned, the cyclical, the ordered, the serene. We give nature an aching and restless quality, a continuous displeasure, an insanity capable of the unexpected, the never-before-seen. We muddy the river for no other reason than to see what happens next.

We give nature the ability to look back and reflect upon itself, to be unhappy, to stir the soup for no reason at all, to change its own mind at a moment's notice. That is what makes us human.

We lack the usual simplicity and choose to increase complexity for its own sake. We meddle and our meddling is our unique gift.

I can recite pi to 13 places, some essential numbers, the names of most trees, I know quite a few quotes, my death poem, the preamble to the U.S. constitution, my favorite philosophy, a bad dream, my mother's smile, a day in a boat with my dad, my son's face the last time I saw him, the pains of a lost love, and on and on. To list all of the things would be very long and tedious for others and would probably miss the point. I take the phrase "to know by heart" pretty literally. It's my belief that, if I do not know it by heart, I do not know it at all. If I've not bothered to know a thing through and through, if I've not internalized it as consciously or deliberately and as deeply as I'm able, I've probably not given it the respect it deserves or, in the least, I've not discovered or created it's meaning to me personally.

There's much we consider to be trivial. As it happens, nothing truly is or has to be. Everything has consequence farther reaching than we realize or can imagine. Nothing has meaning, but everything can have meaning if we choose. All it takes is a commitment first to our own heart. We can feel, we can love, we can value, and we must. Coming to that realization is the first and best deliberate step to knowing everything by heart ... or not knowing it at all.

What do I know by heart? Everything I claim to know. If my heart - my most authentic spirit - isn't in it, I do not know it and do not claim to.

My most intense and consistent inspiration comes always from unmeddled nature. I truly rapture in gentle rains and beneath the rustling guard of trees in dim musty forests. I'm ecstatic at the focused passing of a single beetle through the grass. I'm mystified at the intrusive squatting of a spider in a convenient corner of my front porch. I am at deepest rest watching the slow burn of day turn to the simmer of night. I'm amused at the dramas of crows and desperate robins. I'm rattled by Stellar Jays stealing seeds I didn't know were mine. My heart wrenches at the turning of maple leaves and fallen trees and elates with the sudden burst of new buds. I have incredibly magical dreams amid the deep snows and am humbled by tireless rivers and the reach of the great redwoods.

The soup of the world sets my spirit to growl and I lust for great helpings of it.

Of course, I'm inspired by the yellowing words of the wise long gone and the crisp passions of those still new. I'm inspired by the focused attentions of a cat with lint. I'm inspired by the clumsy games of puppies, by the incredible stories of people of great age, by a child's knowing smile, and by the peace of my wife giggling in her sleep.

I am moved when the commonplace inexplicably twists into the unexpected.

I'm amazed at just how frequently that happens.