“No word matters. But man forgets reality and remembers words.”
― Roger Zelazny
It’s amazing how a good story can grab us. Especially when the story is our own. We as individuals or as part of a tribe construct our story out of a combination of things that happened and things that were said and things that we wished we had said and done. Over time we refine our story improving it until it is the one that works best for us at the moment whether in getting reactions out of others or in justifying our own action. As time goes on, it is not the events we remember in clarity but the oft repeated words. We may even tell our story long after it has served its purpose even if in the long run it does us harm. If someone who was present at the actual event remembers it differently (after all they have constructed their own narrative, we may become greatly offended. Where in more judicious moments we may see that a greater truth and value may come out of the combination of the stories, all too often we cling to the narrative we have. People can and have gone to war over these conflicting narratives. Families have been broken and lives destroyed merely because of a slight difference in narrative. Does our story still serve us or have we fallen in thrall to the story allowing it to control our reality and how we view ourselves?
I feel it would behoove us to look at our stories especially in cases of conflicting narratives to be sure that they remain useful to us rather than the means by which we perpetuate dysfunction.
Blessings, G
“Pleasure blocks, but pain clears the way of inspiration. Tagore says: ‘When the string of the violin was being tuned it felt the pain of being stretched, but once it was tuned then it knew why it was stretched’. So it is with the human soul. While the soul goes through pain, torture and trouble it thinks that it would have been much better if it had gone through life without it. But once it reaches the culmination of it then, when it looks back, it begins to realize why all this was meant: it was only meant to tune the soul to a certain pitch.”
~Hazrat Inayat Khan
I felt the pain of loneliness
until I realized the gift of my own company
and learned connection to those I met along the way.
I felt the pain of hunger
until I knew how good food could taste.
I felt the pain of jealousy
until I realized my own worth
Everything that has hurt me
has brought me greater strength.
Every tear I shed
watered the ground I walked on
and nurtured life
Everything that laid me low
ultimately raised me up in truer ways
Every time my heart was sick
healing found its course.
“The charm dissolves apace,
And, as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.
Their understanding
Begins to swell: and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores
That now lie foul and muddy.”
― William Shakespeare
Understanding is a precarious thing and coming to it may be torturous. Oft times we think we have a handle on things and at best it is a compromise. We’ve settled on a position because it is easier than accepting that the universe is a wondrous complicated place with no easy answers yet many competing right wrong ones. Most of us need more security than that it seems. So we make our compromise and choose our positions and argue for them as if they were absolute truth. We may even get into fights both verbal and physically over them.
Which belief is the right one? Who’s deity is stronger? Who has the right to what land and with what justification? Who has the right to retaliate and how hard and under what provocation? Who has the right to exist and under what circumstances? People who have made similar positional compromises band together and drag others along with them. Innocent bystanders get hurt in the process. The water becomes muddier and muddier and all hope of a greater understanding vanishes. Yet sometimes in the midst of all this there is hope.
People not fully indoctrinated to a position start to realize the folly of the extremists. Little by little they walk away from the conflict and seek a new better way of being. It may happen slowly at first with a conversation or two but somewhere in there remains the hope of clarity. Therein lies the road to wisdom that we are capable of. Until then innocence will always be threatened, if only our own.
Blessings, G
“How clear everything becomes when you look from the darkness of a dungeon.”
― Umberto Eco, Foucault’s Pendulum
Perceiving from darkness
almost everything shines bright
Memories of happy times
and traveled places
now back safely enveloped
in my night shroud
Dissolving in the visions of what once was
and unlimited potential for what may be
Perceiving from the light
in full manifest
all seems dim aglow
I have reached the pinnacle
and I know I must return
but then nothing new emerges
Erupting in beingness
and waiting for the shadows
that will return me home.
— G A Rosenberg
“Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets. Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars. Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world. And never forget that writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things–childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves–that go on slipping , like sand, through our fingers.”
― Salman Rushdie
How do our experiences shape us? How do we take what life gives us and make something worthwhile and of value if only to us? During the last two weeks I have seen so much both in experiencing new shores and people and in seeing some of the most famous and beautiful works of art ever created. As much fun as it is, it has also been somewhat overwhelming and I will no doubt spend months (if not years) integrating it all. At the same time I will experience much more. In the art I created today, I have made the first attempts at incorporating visually some of the wonder I’ve seen. Hopefully as time passes I will find that my palate and abilities have grown. In this way the adventure continues.
Blessings, G
“Memory’s images, once they are fixed in words, are erased,” Polo said. “Perhaps I am afraid of losing Venice all at once, if I speak of it, or perhaps, speaking of other cities, I have already lost it, little by little.”
― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
On this trip I have seen many cities. The sites of all of them will stick with me. Seeing Michelangelo’s David and the Acropolis was awesome in the true sense of the word. People watching in Barcelona was amazing as were the streets of Naples and Kusadasi. Yet no city has captured my heart the way Venice has. I could walk the tunnels and side streets for days and in my dreams I still do. I love the canals and watching the boats and the light on the water. The vendors selling their t-shirts and knick knacks seemingly indifferent. San Marcos Basilica and the Dodge’s Palace are filled with art that take the breath away. The craftsmen in the stores sell their glassware and masques and tell stories as enthralling as those in Kusadasi yet where the former talks about who made them, the artists in Venice talk about how they are made. The work itself is beautiful. It is a city of artists of one kind or another.
There are also contradictions in its streets. Along the outside of the Venetian labyrinth everything is geared towards the tourists. Along the smaller narrower lanes and tunnels closer to the centre there is a lot more poverty and people are less fond of the thousands of streaming tourists passing through. Dogs walk off leash beside their owners freely, the more aggressive ones muzzled. As in every city we saw on this voyage, the city walls are strewn with graffiti. In Venice, it is just one more form of art. The gondoliers and water taxis add to the traffic in the canals with grace as do the commuters in their private boats. The food is amazing, whether in an expensive restaurant or in a cheaper pizza stand. There is music in the heart of Venice. The concertinas play alongside the American rock streaming from radios in the smaller shops.
Venice has its share of history as well. I visited the site of Marco Polo’s house (replaced first by an Opera House which was then replaced by apartments. I also saw one of Vivaldi’s houses (apparently he had many movements within Venice) and the site of one of his concerts. On the waterfront square where we stayed, there were people in costume dressed as Casanova and his lady love and the ubiquitous masques carry reminders of earlier times.
One day I will return to Venice and spend at least a week there. Three days was definitely not long enough. Until then I will revisit it in my memories.
Blessings, G
“If you feel lost, disappointed, hesitant, or weak, return to yourself, to who you are, here and now and when you get there, you will discover yourself, like a lotus flower in full bloom, even in a muddy pond, beautiful and strong.”
― Masaru Emoto
I hoped to do some all out blogging today. I have been working on some new art, and still have posts about Venice and coming home to write about. Jet lag does tend to interfere a bit. So instead will spend some time returning to myself and tomorrow will start anew.
Thank you all for following the journey.
Blessings, G
Click on image to see full sized:L
Approaching the Airport in Venice (Via Water taxi)
Moth Woman View by G A Rosenberg 
Welcome by G A Rosenberg 
Textured Emergence by G A Rosenberg 
Acropolis Shadow by G A Rosenberg 
Opening of Ways by G A Rosenberg 
Cave (R) by G A Rosenberg 
Reaching Through by G A Rosenberg 
Systemic Unfolding by G A Rosenberg 
Synaptic Viewing by G A Rosenberg 
Furry Meditation by G A Rosenberg 
Energized Belief by G A Rosenberg 
Restored Shepherd by G A Rosenberg 
Nude Shadow Beside Tree by G A Rosenberg 
Entering Venice
At St Marcos Square 
Gondoliers
Statue Outside Our Hotel 
Hanging with Friends
Late Afternoon Sky
Approaching the Airport in Venice (Via Water taxi)
Back in BC flying over Mountains