None of it matters.

Unless it matters to us.

And then it doesn’t matter who else it matters to.

Matter is just matter without the heart as it breathes life into a thing

And afterwards?

Who knows if the love will be enough

It doesn’t matter, it’s just stuff

The reality only ever was

In the process

I was watching a documentary last night on the history channel, a guy was walking along an old train line that had been constructed a hundred years earlier, at much stress and cost. It was now a goat track through beautiful countryside that had long since reclaimed the ground.

It took 400 men 4 years to construct just the bridge crossing. It took seven years and vast amounts of money and labour to construct in total, requiring blasting tunnels and other costly feats of engineering.

It was used for 12 years after it was opened. Then it was closed, and the infrastructure was dismantled.

The soaring stone piers of the bridge are all that remain.

All that time and energy and money.

We think what we do matters.

It doesn’t.

We fill our days with the doing of things. To that doing we add stress about outcomes, the whys, the how’s. We tackle problems, overcome hurdles and race towards our goals. Thinking they matter. They don’t.

The only thing that matters is what we learn, how we grow, who we inspire, and how well we lived along the way. Because it is all over so fast. And we aren’t really remembered all that long afterwards.

I am currently wrangling back and forth with draft to digital over a book that I want to release. It is a collaboration of AI art and my poetry. I love it, I am excited by the concept and the unique images that the book contains.

My first hurdle was that a robotic trail of the internet picked up a double-up with the poetry on my blog. I subsequently removed all the poetry from here which will appear in the book.

Last night (because it is American) while I slept, a new email arrived. I read it this morning. I have been blocked again for some of the images, which include nudity. The same sort of nudity that would hit you in the eye in any art gallery – particularly one that includes Renaissance art.

So despite the fact I happened to love those particular images, I have replaced them with other artworks which could cause – surely – no offence and reuploaded the book for the approval of the Gods that be.

Our world is ridiculously concerned with inconsistent messaging.

Our gatekeepers grow increasingly confused and in turn frustrate us as we attempt to get by. The extreme concern over offence, and the impossible nature of preventing anything from offending someone – no matter how insignificantly – has compressed the possibilities of art and creativity to an all time low.

And yet out there in the impossible to govern wastleands of the internet, a proliferation of any depravity you could imagine and plenty you probably can’t, is available at the click of a keyboard.

Hard core porn is prolific and available to people everywhere via a google search. Yet my book is offensive and cause for concern because it contains two images that are lovely, quirky and whimsical but that also happen to have boobs in them. I found one of the images, particularly arresting because it depicts a perfect body but a disfigured face, which I didn’t didn’t notice straight away. That says some nigh ing about how preoccupied we are with beautiful bodies.

It is stressful when you have a project that is in the hands of opinionated mixed messaging. In the end, I had to laugh, and let it go. I want the book to be available – for no other purpose except that I love it, and I enjoy the idea that a poetic heart conspired with artificial intelligence to bring a unique offering into the world.

I refuse to be anxious – if humans can rip up a beautiful railway constructed at enormous expense. Then why would I think anything I do could matter in five weeks, let alone 100 years? And yet I receive great satisfaction from the creations I love so much. So that is enough.

As I said in a post recently. Writing poetry, creating art, and producing books that only exist if we decide to take the time and energy, to love the work of bringing them into the world. That pursuit is worthy in and of itself. It doesn’t matter if it is not an Amazon bestseller or is around to see the light of day in a month’s time. It is worthy because I loved it, loved creating it, and delivered it – with effort and love – into this transient world.

The universal book link where you can pre-order “Where AI meets the human heart” is https://books2read.com/u/38Vp2V and you can be certain I will ensure that is is delivered in 7 days time. Maybe if there is enough pre-orders than that alone, will make it happen. It’s not expensive – but it is worthy.

The image that was so offensive is included below.