This is a perfect painting for my temperament... hovering between comic / bewildered / isolated
But words don't match the layers implied by this simple shape in the expanse of space around it.
I have re-read Ecclesiastes tonight and I think it was good, but it got at the root of me too. There is too much to say and I don't feel like recording it here - I am tempted to push the blinking cursor far far down the page... but I will let it be.
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The Bard, as usual, sums up an element of our Chile's convo: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." (Hamlet 1:5) A point I can not help but take comfort in...
A Sonnet by Sir Phillip Sidney that speaks to our discussion about desire (named, aptly, "Desire"):
Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought;
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care;
Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought:
Desire, Desire! I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware;
Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought,
Who shouldst my mind to higher things prepare,
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought,
In vain thou mad'st me to vain things aspire,
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire,
For Virtue hath this better lesson taught:
Within myself to seek my only hire,
Desiring nought but how to kill Desire.
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