What do I mean, the Exploded House? Not too recently a house in my neighborhood blew-up! 2AM! The old guy there was using propane tanks in the basement to run his furnace… and well, there was a leak. That’s what you do when the gas company cuts you off. Apparently, he’d been doing it for years. He survived with injuries.

The next day I went to see it. Four main walls were flattened like pedals of a perfect lotus flower, inner walls neatly stacked and aligned with them. The roof sat, semi-intact to one side, as if a soap bubble had burst. Pop! At the center, the basement, was an empty box. Everything else was blown in shreds about the yards like mist and rain. The perimeter trees were singed, the truck’s tires were melted. Smells of dust and charred wood.

I keep thinking about him, at 2 AM being shot out there, like from an ejection-bed. What did he hear or see or feel of that brief bright light and thunder! Sensations of abrupt and maximum intensity and overwhelmed perceptions doesn’t begin to cover it.

So, imagine the total blast of his momentary experience was YOUR experience, every day, all day long, you hear, see, and feel the fires of stars burning. That’s the exploding house. That’s reality being continuously torn apart and reassembled, and that’s your inner-self and spirit also. A supreme example of the Way, it is the elementary fabric undergoing transformations everywhere at all times. It is the engine that drives the Way and upon which the Way is formed.

Now, the question is… What would I do to incorporate these ideas into a work of Art? Do I need to? Is this a part of my narrative? What do I want to say?