Monday, July 16, 2012

The Field

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
 and rightdoing there is a field.
 I will meet you there.


When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”


~ Rumi

























It's amazing what, when and how something simple can bring minds and hearts together. It's all the more a fascination when those minds are seemingly worlds apart, by many meanings. It begs the question-is there such a thing as 'meant to,' or some force of predestination? I've never myself been one to hang my hat on destiny's hook, but on occasion something occurs that briefly suspends my skepticism.

I suppose it's why I love the poet above, he reaches me from an ancient orbit and speaks to the parts that seem to hunger for some sense that a path and place lies before me, and on it certain people who are meant to take my hand along the journey in some fashion. Or perhaps I am meant to take theirs. Perhaps the pupil becomes the pedagogue.On my current leg of the pathway, my hand is suddenly, gently reached for by another, one that once seemed ethereal, but as it lightly grasps mine, feels entirely warm with tender humanity. The path alights with new features, yet I am not shaken by them. I am merely heartened and curious.

In this field in which we meet quite often, the world indeed becomes so full it is nearly impossible to encompass it with any explanations. Art needs not be justified with rationalization, science, or other rendition. It is made of the soul's sounds, the heart's refrain, the mind's lullaby. It is justified by everything and nothing.

Perhaps that is part and parcel of those things which are so lovely they cannot ever be spoke of with sufficient depiction. Often the very creator of the work cannot entirely explain its birth. Perhaps that is an essential facet of those works that touch so deeply-they are both immutable and iconoclastic. They shatter the conventions and burst through the gates to reveal new territories. Once their claim is staked upon the landscape, they forever change the geography. New life springs forth from their consequence.

My hope is that in this field-this new territory-each one of us finds fresh air and inspiration, whatever form it may take. In each one of us resides the potential to engender great art.

If you'll meet me in the field-outside of ideas of pragmatism, shame, expectation, oppression-we will find ourselves and each other in ways we cannot alone. Will you let your soul lie down for a moment?




~~~


c. P 2012









3 comments:

  1. Exceptionally-lovely; thanks once again for voicing your thoughts and those of others, Paige!

    Art is what is found in the pauses. In that moment where one foot lifts off the "path" (as you call it) and the other remains and for a brief second, it's like you're hovering on the threshold of something new. Art is in the space between period and letter, the hollowness of a cave or someone's cheekbone, or the silence of our own minds. It shapes itself out of nothing and is what wasn't there before. It's a kind of magic and I, for one, am content to allow it to unravel as it will, without too much poking around and hoping to find its secrets.

    I leave that to the Muses. ;-) And, hopefully, they guide me down some paths I haven't yet dared to disturb, and I meet other like-minded folks content to lounge in their artfully dishabille stages, sharing in common interests.

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    1. Beautiful...Cost me a little bit of work express myself in English, but I understand what you say, and it is very beautiful. Finally, the art transcends borders and unites souls...Best regards

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    2. lovely thoughts, ladies! Glad to hear your inputs!

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