Using words and images to describe, but more like to point toward, that which cannot be contained or summarized in word or image. That is the challenge, the thrill, mild frustration and occasional heartbreak of this quiet rarely visited place called the Omphalos Cafe. 

  Thankfully others have gone before and left records of their trials, successes and failures, some having descended into despair and others having soared to a joyously disinterested sense of wonder and contentment with all creation. 

  I’m of the latter disposition and quietly, awkwardly urge it upon any who would tarry a moment here. 

  It does mark one out as different though, uncaring perhaps, or merely self-absorbed. That’s ok by me, mainly because I believe it is everyone else who is self-absorbed. That is, stuck in Maya, in their conceptions of themselves as participating and contributing individuals in the game as played by modern humanity. Me, I only seem like I’m playing the game in earning my modest living, but I’m not. In truth I do not believe in the game one bit and have done my best to leave it behind. However, one has to eat, and I have no interest in actually inhabiting a mountain cave or grotto and begging alms from passers by. So it does help to at least acknowledge the game everyone else is hell bent on playing, and even use it for my own ends you might say.

  So I’ve relocated the Cafe from the city, where I was surrounded by the game, to the mountains, where there is still evidence of something else at play. 

  It is that something else which I hope to capture or encapsulate in these so inadequate words and images. 

  ‘Something else at play,’ I like that. ‘At play.’

  Play on Mr. Moose.