Thursday, October 27, 2011
Memories
The leaves looked the same last year, catching the light from the yellow streetlights. First I see the dog and then I see him, his cap on his head, walking hastily as always.
And I remember suddenly, standing with him in the forest at twilight, looking out over the house as he was showing me the property. He told me about how they built the garden and how the children collected rocks for the paths. His cell phone rang and it was his son calling. His voice softened and he called him a funny petname. I looked at the lights coming from the house and I did not want to go back. He told me about the motocross area and how they disliked the sound. We passed a small castle in which they sometimes dined with the people living there.
I remember sitting in the car next to him, with the dogs in the back. And carrying lunch over the dunes to the beach. He was like an uncle who knew many things.
I remember being the first one to wake, stepping into the only hot room in the house as I was shaking with cold. I remember looking into the old tainted mirror. And him, showing me how to sweep the dust from the concrete floor.
And I remember suddenly, standing with him in the forest at twilight, looking out over the house as he was showing me the property. He told me about how they built the garden and how the children collected rocks for the paths. His cell phone rang and it was his son calling. His voice softened and he called him a funny petname. I looked at the lights coming from the house and I did not want to go back. He told me about the motocross area and how they disliked the sound. We passed a small castle in which they sometimes dined with the people living there.
I remember sitting in the car next to him, with the dogs in the back. And carrying lunch over the dunes to the beach. He was like an uncle who knew many things.
I remember being the first one to wake, stepping into the only hot room in the house as I was shaking with cold. I remember looking into the old tainted mirror. And him, showing me how to sweep the dust from the concrete floor.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Something dangerous
My mind is fuzzy, I cannot seem to place my thoughts in the right compartment of my brain. And why do I feel like a robot, mechanically directing my movements? It is strange to live this way. I don't know what caused it and I don't know how to stop it. I meditate and eat well and sleep well and I'm working a job that I like, I'm seeing my friends, taking walks in nature. I'm doing everything right, so why does it feel wrong?
I feel like I'm constantly moving, keeping myself busy. But I panic when there's nothing to keep me entertained. When I find myself not knowing what to do I get this feeling as if I've had three cups of coffee in a row. I'm frantically looking at the checklist in my head, but I cannot bring myself to clean the bathroom right now. I need a good book or a good movie because it's too early to go to sleep. I need something good. Right now.
I'm scared to sit still in my room and do nothing.
And then comes along this great peace of art. And the thing that good art does, is it slaps you in the face and forces you to stand still. I realize suddenly what was wrong. I've stopped believing in miracles. This work of art reminded me of them.
There's no room for miracles in your life when you are being your own slave driver, like David Henry Thoreau so rightly describes. I need to sit still in my room and contemplate the beauty of art and life. Even though it is scary to do so. And even though good art is being ridiculed within the public domain and seems to become more scarce every day. Never stop searching for something that touches your soul, coming from the soul of another human being.
Even though this used to be my natural state of mind once, I find it extremely hard right now. And I need to literally force myself to sit down and not think about anything that I'm supposed to do. The moment of release comes when there's nothing I can bring myself to do. That's when I let go. Some good calm music helps: Arvo Part. It needs to become a normal part of my life again. I'm glad I realize that now.
I feel like I'm constantly moving, keeping myself busy. But I panic when there's nothing to keep me entertained. When I find myself not knowing what to do I get this feeling as if I've had three cups of coffee in a row. I'm frantically looking at the checklist in my head, but I cannot bring myself to clean the bathroom right now. I need a good book or a good movie because it's too early to go to sleep. I need something good. Right now.
I'm scared to sit still in my room and do nothing.
And then comes along this great peace of art. And the thing that good art does, is it slaps you in the face and forces you to stand still. I realize suddenly what was wrong. I've stopped believing in miracles. This work of art reminded me of them.
There's no room for miracles in your life when you are being your own slave driver, like David Henry Thoreau so rightly describes. I need to sit still in my room and contemplate the beauty of art and life. Even though it is scary to do so. And even though good art is being ridiculed within the public domain and seems to become more scarce every day. Never stop searching for something that touches your soul, coming from the soul of another human being.
Even though this used to be my natural state of mind once, I find it extremely hard right now. And I need to literally force myself to sit down and not think about anything that I'm supposed to do. The moment of release comes when there's nothing I can bring myself to do. That's when I let go. Some good calm music helps: Arvo Part. It needs to become a normal part of my life again. I'm glad I realize that now.
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