Tuesday (thoughts on artists and melancholy)

I was told once, that when emotions come upon you suddenly, not to run away from them but to feel them fully, then let them pass. The feeling of today is called melancholy, sort of a beautiful sadness from dwelling in moments of the past that can never be repeated. The heavy clouds and light spring rains frame my mind to completion. I promise, some days I feel like Jacques from the Shakespearean play “As You Like It”, surrounded by love and exuberance and yet overthinking it all.

This past week, and weekend were actually pretty nice. We had a visitor at our congregation who, although only getting to know him and his wife briefly, I felt like I’ve known him for eons. It’s rare, and exciting when you meet people who seem to speak the language of your heart. My mind questions, in situations like these, if they are in fact native speakers or merely people who cared enough to learn my tongue. All remains to be seen.

Saturday we explored the brick streets and classic architecture of the Old Market. Our first stop was a lively gallery opening, full of artists and creatives, sipping red wine out of plastic cups and trying to study brushstrokes for color inspiration. My buddy and fellow art lover from the Bronx is poised in any situation, whereas I still struggle conversing with unfamiliar (albeit friendly) faces. The next gallery we visited, one of the artists was out front doing live painting, blasting Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton. The vino in me complimented the art and the song, and soon I found myself slow dancing and being sung to right there in the foyer.

Artists and creatives are really unique humans, living and feeling right in the moment, all the colors and sounds and emotions are just within a fingertips grasp, and experienced simultaneously; and for the most part I am one of them. But what puzzles me about myself is the presence of restraint and responsibility. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend everyday looking for inspiration and converting that into colorful expressions of self? Within my person though, much as I’d want to, I can’t live that way; it would upset the desire for balance. There is day for the night, there is rain for the sunshine, there is heat for the cold etc...I believe the great Artist meant things to be that way.