Like a small cafe on the street of strangers-
that’s love…its doors open to all.
Like a cafe that expands and
contracts with the weather:
if it pours with rain its customers increase,
if the weather’s fine, they are few and weary…
Mahmoud Darwish, Like a Small Cafe, That’s Love
I feel inspired with and exited about life at the moment. Perhaps an old friend and a former lover, when suddenly appeared, brought forgotten senses between his fingers and plant them in my hair. Or Mahmoud Darwish’s poetry that I was reading for a couple of days finds its way to project it’s beauty on my daily life. Most probably I got enthusiastic about misery which follows the winter, as any melancholic person does. I am not sure of cause for this sudden enlightenment.
Maybe the fact that the year is coming to it’s end gave me the strength to put aside bad habits, broken relations and to upgrade long-term desires and longings in 2017.
I will finally start to paint in my free time, and if there is not any, I will produce it by organizing my routine better. I will start up with my last year (and a year before it) resolution that I have to begin with the process of writing my first novel. I will do yoga again. I will give a chance to myself one more time. Will do more of what makes me happy and stop allowing myself to feel comfortable in the loops of confusion, excuses and melancholy.
Entering 2017 for me is entering into my third decade. As always I will try better and harder to detect, define and to reach my foolish dreams and most probably I will get distracted again, but I am sure I will learn something on my way there.
You see, people know less than they are willing to admit. I know nothing. I am learning all my life, and I strongly support the idea of long life learning. But as I am getting older I understand better that I know nothing about anything. I just trust my instincts, and I acknowledge my mistakes. Sadly, I believe that there is no happy endings. Not in terms of love, life expectations or faith in people. We strive to reach something undetected. We feel an urge which we cannot define, recognize or satisfy.
I was traveling through my soul and mind seeking for the root of that urge. I tried to understand if it is love, religion, life or death, or some kind of mental disorder, which makes me feel like a foreigner in this world, in my daily life, in my relationships with others, and often as a stranger to myself. I followed my heart and I still do, I followed my patterns of self-destruction, which I am trying to avoid lately (it seems we learn something throughout the years after all), and I tried to follow some kind of formalities when expected, but I never succeed in being formal. Formality is a handicap for my spirit. The only thing I was never in doubt about is the truth. I am playing for truth, even when the truth is playing against me.
Referring to the above mentioned urge, I found it to be a search for expression. We all want to leave a trace of living. We all feel need to share. After all, our ancient collective dream is immortality. My way to feel alive while I am still living is making and observing art in all its forms. Regardless of the language, technique, style, background, period, influence or feeling which produces, art is the one and only thing which is able to awaken the hurricane of emotions within me. The only thing that matters is the truth. The truth is the highest value and exists in all universes. Art never lies, if does, then it is not art.
I trust people are delusional when they believe they had a choice in life-changing moments, and when they are convinced they made a right or wrong decisions when it comes to choosing certain life paths. I believe your path is choosing you. Life is a strong movement, like the sea. It cannot be controlled, only followed and observed when the storm is gone. Collect fragments of your broken expectations and let them glow in a mirror. Learn from your so called choices and keep running to your dreams and beliefs. Try to keep up with people who inspire you, because through the time, we all learn there is not many of them, therefore we need to hold on to that individuals and those small thing that makes us happy.
Happiness is like a perfume. We just need a drop of it on our wrist to give a sense to the moment we will remember in upcoming years. So, do not chase dragons and do not lie to yourself that you will find salvation in a fairy tale with the happy ending, which depends on some other participant, who shall produce happiness, peace or safety for you. If is created by someone else, then the story is not yours.
Use your urge to write a story to live up to it, or at least to believe in it, while you are following life movements through the time. The time is now, always.
Maybe my former lover inspires me to try to paint, maybe Mahmoud Darwish inspires me to try to love again, but the bottom line is, the truth inspire me to accept everything and anything as it is, even myself and my broken dream, which survived for so long; the dream to do art for living and to live to do art.