Beyond the paint there lies a real frame.

Concepts fill the room, don’t they? Our mind is a library filled with tomes carried by the winds of time. The dust has settled and the clutter is evidently not going to straighten itself out. Actions are rarely seen for what they are; barren and clean of decoration. We paint actions with measurements and appraisals, a cloud of ideas that muster up fictions and fantasies. A social story is woven together and we are all ensnared from birth to reared childhood as to the plotting course we call by the name of morality.

Fears on the one hand come to bear on our nerves. They weigh on our hearts as we wonder up storms of doubt, anxiety and tangled what-ifs to the opinions that may be stirred upon onlookers. What if the results are unsightly and blemish our polished personalized story? Fears are fiction, if one wants to be blunt, honest and straight to the point as to the reality that faces us everyday in this world. Yet by their emergence are we faced with the arrival of their counterparts, such as courage and fortitude.

But if fears do not exist, neither do ideas such as courage. There are only actions, plain and purely simple, in this world of cause and effect. A man may charge into a burning house to save the helpless, yet it may not have been courage that gave rise to his splendid movements. It may simply have been the absence of fear, the lack of hesitation and the myriad of little fanciful ideas that symbolize the base of the mask’s facade. The world may be unfathomably complicated, yet not in the way we presume or take for granted. It is certainly clean of this imaginary clutter.