Sunday, January 16, 2011
'That is the best thing of life, to be in sympathy with others. To be creating something of time and sharing the moments in between'
'Where is a a piece of paper ? You need to write that down'. Said Sia, as her hands scrambled across the table for a piece of paper. 'What was it again ?' Sia asked Claire. 'I'll just keep talking' said Claire. 'It is just my wandering words, they're bound to come up again'. She took a slurp of her red wine and went back to strumming her guitar. 'No', Sia insisted ' This is your artist statement Claire, I'll write it down and you can pull it out some time, when you need it'.
Claire accepted the writing and humbly slid it beneath a pile of papers before her.
Earlier that evening, reclined like sleeping cats under the shadow of a garden canopy, we had shared our 2010's and our plans for the next year. With a friend visiting from out of town, there was much to catch up on. What I did not like was that I sat their in loathing of myself. I recited a chronology of events and I could not be bothered to share some affirmation for the future. I was exhausted by myself and equally humiliated by my inhibitions and pessimism. I knew that I was in the company of great women, a safe space, a friendly space but unfortunately their strength and humility, beauty and fervour for the future just accentuated my sense of inadequecy.
Tonight even, as the heaviness of the humid air heightens the stillness, i feel incredibly alone, desperately wanting to just share this glass of wine. A lone sailor on a ship, without a compas or sail or even a destination. I do not want to sink, but water is rising in the hull.
There is reason why there are many sailors onboard a ship and why sea shanties exist, which I discovered as the dinner pary progressed.
We sat around a table and ceremoniously pulled out our lipsticks like shop girls of the 1960's - giggling like them too, in amusement of new found cosmetic comraderie. Blush pink, crimson, ruby and terracotta. Claire taught us a song, and as we learnt to pronunciate in Spanish, our voices grew stronger, until we were seductively rolling our vowls. Over candlelight we sung and laughed hyserically.
When a platter of desert was set on the table, I was struck by how the artist presented the food, so differently to how my mother may have. When asked if i wanted some christmas pudding I was expecting my individual slice of cake in a bowl, perhaps with some cream or custard. Instead a long timber board was set down on the table with a a giant piece of lucious cake in the centre, surrounded by slices of mango and peach. The colours glistened and the sugar was so tantelising. We delicately picked at the platter with our fingers and wondered at the inclusion of sago in the cake, which gave it an unusul pumpernickal flavour and texture.
To create something of time - this need not compete with legend but embrace the essence of life.
To be in Sympathy with others - is paramount to known happiness, but what is also necessay is to be in sympathy with oneself - and this can be a lot harder.
Posted by at 5:59 AM