Welter

Turmoil; bewildering jumble (n.)

That we are capable of moments spent in art, moments spent in feeling a pure feeling, spent in thinking a pure thought, spent in being a human without anything in the way, is a strange burden. One that at times is unbearable and breaks the back of those that carry it, while at others lifts them up beyond it, helping them transcend the burden by way of the burden when it's accepted authentically. I'm convinced that art comes from these moments spent in humanity: moments spent reveling in the welter of place and order and chaos, of detail and universe, of time and self and everything else.