Jolly Flatboatmen

The merry men atop a boat, dance a merry dance. There's singing, dancing and merriment and a merry song.

I love the imagery in this painting and it's something that stayed with me from my last visit to the Met. It has been a while since this image has sat on my desktop, waiting to be uploaded to blog. The air of gaiety and the careless abandon with which the men dance atop the boat is infectious. It cannot but fill your heart with pure joy.

What I found more interesting though were the various versions the artist had made. And smaller paintings which focused on a section of the same painting. Details are important and that's what really brought this painting to life, the absolute attention to details.
The red kerchief waving merrily in the air, seems to be beckoning me to dive into the painting and join the revelry. 

Growth

It is our great need which made us who we are today. An all consuming passion to break free from what fettered. A desire for open skies and free flight. A compulsion to build and to evolve at the crux of all growth. 

Wishes

I sit in the inner room, where I go unseen. A small room where gifts are brought in and packed, ready to be given to those who need them.

That's when I hear the father and son walk in. The father more timid than the son. They wait at the reception. The lady at the reception walks in with a bag full of goodies for the child. He's around eight ( or maybe younger). Shyly he reaches out for the bag and opens it. There before his eyes is all that he's ever wished for and it fills his heart with happiness. 

He looks up at the lady, but the smile still evades his face. She pokes him - "Don't you smile? I'm sure there's a beautiful set of pearly whites waiting to be revealed." 

"Where is the doll?" 

"For his sister the father explains"

She pulls out the board game that she's put in along with other things. "This is for the two of you" And she shows him how to play. He listens intently and then blesses her with the elusive smile. 

The father and son leave in a while, but they leave behind warmth.  

Folk lore

Some memories are inherited, handed down from mother to daughter to grand daughter.


Lying flat on her back, she watches the clouds float against an azure background, sailing out of sight behind a hill. The breeze is cool and the soft scent of deodar perfumes the garden. Thin pine needles litter the path she starts to move down and then she hears a muffled sound of footfall.

She begins to run and slips on the smooth carpet created by the pine needles and suddenly someone pins her down on the ground with one leap. She thrashes about and pulls hair and feels hers being pulled in return and then soft childish laughter. She bursts into tears while the older one tries to pacify. It was just a small prank to give her a start. Then they take off again, slipping and falling their way home.




(From an older blog - reposted)  

Courage

She was the light of his life for more than thirty years, and much more than his better half. She was partly the limb he lost years ago to an accident, the mother to his children and the completion of his life. And now her loss is keenly felt by all. The children who feel a void in the house, the birds she fed every day, even the plants are wilting in her absence.
And that's when courage takes over. For those who are left behind, pick up the threads of life. They speak words of hope and strength and they work relentlessly, for the lack of work induces thoughts. But time will soon heal all wounds and bury the regret and guilt-of neglect, of hurting, of not acting soon enough and reaching too late.
And so they take control and act with courage and face the long days ahead with cheer. They take comfort in the joys of the mundane. And there is courage in their everyday ordinary acts and their attempts at bringing back cheer and keeping alive memories.

There is no joy in grieving for those who are far apart
There is such a thing as keeping a memory in the heart

Flowers wilt and beauty fades, it is the essence that remains. If  you cannot see it, then who is to blame? 

Family

There is a reason why we are bound together as a unit. To support and nurture each other, to celebrate the good times and to provide relief in times of distress. One unit with shared memories, values, grief and happiness. Dysfunctional, normal, weird, eccentric, happy, unhappy it doesn't matter as long as we have the good fortune of the company of those who have known us all our lives and who know the key to our hearts, understand our silence and value us for who we are.

The only normal we've known all our lives. We stand by each other, come together in times of pain and keep each other in our prayers.

A recent flurry of photos (black and white and otherwise) shared electronically brought back fond memories. For better or worse they are flesh and blood and have suffered you through all stages of life.  A small note of thanks to those who know me best.

Rebirth

The soul is indestructible and eternal. It takes on new form and shape in a continuous stream of being. So then does rebirth have a meaning or even birth for that matter? Is all life one cohesive whole, just energy bound together so tightly that it begins to form tangible boundaries between things. Is there a difference between the animate and the inanimate in fact? Is life just a figment of our perception? And then what bearing does human life have upon the rest of the world? 

For man is not an ordinary life form, solely responsible for inflicting changes upon the face of this planet, that it is still reeling under, and capable of feats that were once in the domain of fairy tales. What does rebirth mean for man - a series of transformation that set him (or her) on a life altering path? A search for meaning ? Are we truly unique in that sense and do our faculties put us at an advantage over the rest of the planet or is it a burden that we must bear?

What appears to me is life is a quest, and there are innumerable questions that seek answers and very rarely does a 42 present itself to us. We are left with questions to grapple with and that's what a large part of life constitutes. 

“Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather must recognize that it is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.”