memento vivere

It’s a strange old time in a strange old world. I’m having one of those magic little moments of calm right now. It’s 7am on a warm September day. The edges of sunrise are giving the trees and the toy town posh houses across on the next hill a warm and magical glow. I’m sitting bare chested enjoying the warmth on my skin, enjoying the pure silence, broken only occasionally by a gull or a crow in the distance. It’s all the more magical knowing that I woke up panicking a couple of hours ago. Maybe it’s the Beta Blockers kicking in or that I’ve wrestled the maelstrom of contradicting thought that is my mind, if not into submission, into a shakey  truce.  A picture popped up on Facebook today, a reminder of an adventure to London with someone I care deeply about. I remember its lovely moments, its tense moments and that it ended in a little Italian restaurant back by the sea. 

Maybe this particular moment is more magical for the panic that came before… I can’t help wondering about how we as humans can find it so hard to live without structure, knowing where we fit in in space and time, in a social pecking order, a group structure, craving acceptance and approval.

I’m struggling at the moment with post project depression. That’s the nearest phrase I can find to fit so I’m sorry if it sounds over dramatic but I’m trying to come to terms with ideas that always fall short of how I would really like to present them and preparing myself to get into the next project I have lined up. I am feeling that ever present fear that the human world will catch up with me and grind me under its rollers like it does with everyone else, sinking me into routine, regularity and structure. The fight is a hard one and even on a lovely morning like this, I can feel the coldness and darkness of winters real and psychological waiting in the wings. 

Painters used to often create memento mori, reminders of the fleetingness of life and the looming omnipresence of something else but I’d rather focus on memento vivere, remembering that we are alive. To appreciate the preciousness of the now. Not by filling our diaries with as many things and people as possible but by being engaged in every second and enjoying who and what we are and not what people think of us.

And with that I shall have a coffee, deliver some artwork and go and have a walk by the sea.

 

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