Whispering Moods.

June 24, 2014 11:37am Published by Jules Smith in The Art Philosopher 25 Comments

She was half human and half mythAt least that’s how it felt. A fish out of water; a social pariah at the worlds biggest party. Both parts of her were vulnerable to perilous events. Just a mere maid with nothing more to offer than being a siren of enchanting stories.  A slick line here and a burst of imagination there to beguile and gladden the spirits of the very few before she fell into a lethargic stillness.

Was it all for naught?

She would always try to save you first but she would also let you drown. 

Drowning and drenched within the large spiral conch she would listen intently. Sat in her resonating chamber with only the ambient noise whooshing and flowing like an ocean of reality.  Sometimes clashing and boisterous, overwhelming with wanting, lusty waves; sometimes just the gentle burbling of diminishing bubbles. Soft and ebbing away like breathless sighs.  The tormented, secret messages of her whispering moods. 

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Hmm, I think she needs someone to pay her a visit in that seashell she lives in. A fellow who’ll ride the lusty waves and pop the diminishing bubbles. He’d be a better ape than me if he can get the job done without an aqualung!

Now that sounds like a Prince Charning, Mr. Gorilla Bananas!
What do you mean a better ape than you? You put the A in ape.

Charning? Can’t even get CHARMING right. Freudian?

Absolutely splendiferous

Well absolutely, bloody thank you darling!

Is it all for naught? That is the question, isn’t it – the source of the torment and the answer to living in the smooth folds of the large spiral conch.

It’s a mighty question. As time goes by it gets harder to answer, Larry.

Finding meaning in life is not always simple. Some people drift toward Viktor Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning), which is not an insignificant work. For me, it’s Yeats’ An Irish Airman Forsees his Death. A lonely impulse of delight describes it best for me. To the extent that it relates to torment pivots on your definition of delight and the ability to find joy in small things. That’s not to say that I don’t absolutely love big things, but in life there aren’t that many big things and there are many small moves that we can and usually do make to improve the lives of others. To that extent, life is a monkey trap. (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/monkey_trap) The metaphor is that we can only be truly free when we release that which we’re holding onto and understand that “things” are less important than people and cherishing, and showing compassion. (end of sermonette)

(Yeats) Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds…etc.

You’re right. Gotta let go of the banana. I think that most of us measure success, even personal, by the great things we achieve and the trappings of material life and miss the little milestones that seem insignificant. Freedom is absolutely the best form of joy, particularly to me and brings a greater appreciation and understanding of the simple loves. Yet still, I always feel as though I haven’t achieved anything really significant for myself. I can feel the music playing within me and don’t want to die with it still inside. I am tormented by this.

Thank you for your wonderful reply, Larry πŸ™‚

I’m with you. At the end of the journey you want to have lived a full measure of life. So long as the journey is what is important and not the achievement (the end), it will be full and for the most part, sweet.

You need to follow your heart. I realize that’s not the in-vogue thing to say and some people will have a different vision for you – but if it’s not YOUR vision, you won’t be content.

I bloody concur ! πŸ™‚ you are wise

It helps if you’re a graduate from the University of Adversity.

My spiral conch is giving me right jip, it is.

Haha! I told you that if you sit on that thing for too long you’ll have a sore arse! Aint no amount of jellybabies that will make that feel better, Masher! πŸ™‚

Was it all for naught? No way! Sometimes the drowning is the rescue…letting us come back stronger, with more life and brilliance than ever. Well done, as ever. xx

Hey Tracy πŸ˜‰ Tis true. Without drowning we can never learn to swim. Personally, I just rely on someone chucking me a rubber ring!

Thank you πŸ™‚ xx

I misread “breathless sighs” as “breathless thighs.” Yes, well, those too, I suppose.

Said the gigolo from the Manhattan days of yore…I bet you’ve heard the sighs of a few breathless thighs in your time, Exile. It’s what maketh the man πŸ™‚

I think I dated her

That’s very fishy Steve. You can’t date mermaids. They’re a pain in the scaly arse. Never trust a long haired fish.

Great ambiance. I loved how you addressed both sides of the shell, so to speak. =)

Oh, and I’ve nominated you for something. =) http://crystalcollier.blogspot.com/2014/06/awards-for-meawards-for-you.html

Thank you Crystal and THANK YOU Crystal… I’m glowing x

…this reminds me of birth…my birth…i remember it all…

Actually, it reminds me a little of that too! I was there, at your birth too, sweet Phoenix πŸ˜‰

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