I used to have very high expectations of those around me. I thought that people really meant what they said, did what they said they would do and actually felt they way they said they did. Then over time I realized that though most of us start with good intentions we must adapt to the circumstances that life deals us. And that sometimes means we bruise those around us as flail our arms wildly in a quest to survive. This fallibility is what makes us most human.
Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.
Vincent Van Gogh
My brilliant grandfather was also an artist. He proudly displayed his work in the mud structure that was divided into two rooms. One for my grandmother’s kitchen and the other was his studio/office. It is in this space he displayed his human figurines. They were grotesque. Made out of wood, mud, charcoal and old fabric pieces. But the use of human hair collected from the barber shop was a the most unnerving. Then there were the human teeth. Where did he get human teeth? This upset my grandmother so greatly, that at some point an exorcism was performed in their compound. And as for my grandfather,he laughed it off and said the whole thing was ridiculous. ‘It’s just art,’ he said. No one believed him.
I wander around feeling invisible.
Like I’m a speck of dust floating in the air.
It is wonderful.
This weekend was one for the books. I put myself out there proudly and confidently. I put aside my insecurities about my work and stood next to it unashamedly. I let the work speak for itself. The mostly internal creative struggles finally paid off. For a brief moment I exhaled. Today it begins again.
It is amazing how much effort and capital is invested in trying to conceal or eradicate these lines. Tiny jars of potent magic promise to erase the signs of time. And those whose faces are not marked by the ravages of life beam with pride as if they had something to do with it. Getting older is desired but looking the same is esteemed. If only we would just see them for what they really are, fine lines.
Debe tupu haliachi kuvuma
Translation: Empty vessels make the most noise
Happiness is a butterfly,
which when pursued, is
always beyond your grasp,
but which, if you will sit down
quietly, may alight upon you.
This weekend I spent a wonderful afternoon with a friend in Los Angeles. We had lunch at the Alcove. A very cozy restaurant nestled in the eclectic neighborhood of Los Feliz. The restaurant is located inside a charming old house filled with precious antique furniture and large oil paintings that adorn the walls in keeping with the time and spirit of the house. We sat outside on the large patio under one of the large red canvas umbrellas that shielded us from the light afternoon rain. There we chatted in between bites of delicious panini sandwiches served with golden fries, then shared a generous slice of lemon and coconut cake with chamomile tea. It was such a pleasant time.