Retrospective
“He
actually felt as if God had sent the retriever to intrigue him, to remind him that
the world was full of surprises and that despair made no sense when one had no
understanding of the purpose—the strange possibilities—of existence.”
Dean
Koontz
The Van
Gogh experience was wonderful. The technology is, of course, amazing,
but seeing the body of Van Gogh’s work materialize before your eyes, in all its
amazing color and movement was breathtaking. There was a line in Eternity’s
Gate, one of the movies about Van Gogh, in which a priest at St. Remy asked
Vincent why he painted the way he did. He said simply, “I want people to see
what I see.” He painted the world as it appeared to him—moving, alive,
vibrant. I think of artists like Georgia O’Keefe, whose work is singular and
recognizable for its color and detail. She, too, painted the world as she saw
it—all the micro-details of a flower—its color, yes, but also its structure and
texture. Whereas she took in the tiniest details, Van Gogh painted enormous
expanses of landscapes and stary skies. I am so grateful for artists like them
because they exposed the beauty that I sometimes miss in my busy world.
The
quote above is one we might stop and ponder for a while. I’ve had many conversations
with friends about despair—especially about when our loved ones are in trouble
or having problems. We despair, and many of us jump in and try to fix things,
to solve problems that are not ours to solve. I do this myself, supposedly to “help
them,” but if I get down to the bottom of it, I am “helping” to make myself
feel better—more in control, less anxious. What if we were to understand that
others, including our loved ones, see the world through their own eyes, and not
ours. And that they deserve the freedom to make mistakes that they will learn
from. That in trying to control how they live their lives we are depriving them
of that opportunity.
People questioned
Van Gogh, Georgia O’Keefe, Freda Kalo and many others about their vision, their
work, their lives, and just think what a loss to the world it would have been
had they not lived by their own lights. We are all entitled to our worldview,
to our delight and to our suffering. We are on our own journey, and so is
everyone else.
To most
people, Van Gogh was a tragic figure. He was emotionally unstable, he spent years
of his life in an institution, he drank too much, cut off his own ear, and
possibly even killed himself. But he also left an indelible mark on history. He
gave us everything he had to give. And that was his journey. Despair was part
of it, as it is part of everyone’s, but he was so much more—as it everyone.
Today,
let us simply let go of our judgements, retract our tentacles of control and
anxiety, and allow the world to be as it is. Go out there and open your eyes to
the possibilities and to the beauty of this day.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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