When one is moving into a new apartment, new town and starting a new routine, it could be either the best or the worst time to start a blog. As of my first post, I prefer to think the former. After reading several blogs, and being both inspired and cheered by them, I decided to add to the cheer. Why not reflect on the glory of the world around us?
The purpose of this blog is to serve as an outlet for the writer's overflowing joy in creation that sometimes other people misunderstand. When surrounded by the somewhat annoying short-timed traffic lights of Brooklyn, it is quite enjoyable to cast a fleeting glance up at the sky and suddenly realize that within the past minute, the creator of the world decided the city's background should be made up of pink and golden hues, interspersed with one another.
My mother has been a very good teacher on the subject of frugality. The question often asked upon a purchase will be: "But honey, do you need it?". This is often a very necessary question to ask, especially when one considers a sparkly Christmas snow-globe and yet already possesses three such items. But on the subject of beauty, it is my opinion that one can never appreciate enough.
As one author so aptly puts it through the character of the Bishop of Digne:
"The beautiful is as useful as the useful. Perhaps more so."
~ Les Miserables Victor Hugo
So here's to all the little things that make life beautiful. Little things that most people will just rush by on their way to work, or when they're lost in their list of To-Dos and Must-Haves.
I will leave you with three delicacies. The first two I attribute to the majestic creativity of our good Lord. The third is a quaint piece of art by Seraphine de Senlis.
~
This is a poor imitation of one little moment I had one day last fall
that I think I might remember all my life.
I was jogging around the block one day on a dog-poop-laden sidewalk.
I got tired of looking down.
As I turned my head up and paused for breath, the glaring sun hid behind one tiny red leaf.
The leaf was cherry red with pointy tips.
The sun was now a
red pom-pom cheering me on my run.
~
It was late.
I had missed the bus and had now waited for another in the pouring rain for half an hour.
As I cried in frustration from a very long day that was turning into a very long night, I looked down at my soaked shoes. It was not the shoes, but the puddle just off the corner that caught my eye.
The fading lamplight cast a golden shimmer all over the swamped street.
What made it all the more believable was the droplets that glittered and glimmered all they could.
I started to enjoy the rain as my mind happily played with the idea of the street being
swamped in gold.
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Untitled-Seraphine de Senlis |
~
Watching foreign movies can be very invigorating.
French movies especially are refreshing, because they do not hand you everything on a silver platter. They don't explain every detail they want you to pick up on. Rather they let you figure some things out for yourself, and have your brain do a little exercise.
Another reason why I like foreign films is that one's sense of sight is somewhat heightened by the inability to comprehend what you hear.
Thus, watching a french movie about an artist was ideal.
Who would've ever imagined a basket of fruit looking like this one?
The abundance reminds me of Thanksgiving.
The black basket seems to be trying to contain it, but failing utterly.
Sometimes I feel like my brain is the fruit and my body the basket.
My brain wants to accomplish all these grand schemes, but I only have
a basket of a body.
Listening to: Debussy~La Fille Aux Cheveux De Lin~Walter Gieseking