August 25, 2006

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  Pancakes

  I do not know why I am writing another fluff entry; I only know that
  I cannot write anything of more substance at the moment.  To use
  an analogy, it’s as if the only thing I am capable of cooking right now
  are fluffy pancakes, drizzled with syrup and strawberries and covered
  in cream.  Sure, it’s nice every once in awhile, but too much will
  make you sick.

  The thing is, I know I can make more than pancakes.  I’ve done
  it before.  But the neurotransmitters that transport me to the
  part of my brain where jambalaya, chicken and chinese mushrooms, and
  odiferous curry lay hidden have been compromised like a bridge washed
  out by a flood.  I remain separated from those treasures, staring
  out across a vast impasse, yearning for the day I will be reunited with
  those lost thoughts.  My only companion is a pile of pancakes at
  my side, its overflowing maple syrup slowly crawling towards me and
  climbing into my shoes.

  Here are some pancakes for you.

  *******

  I have always enjoyed beauty, but I have not always been able to
  appreciate it.  Some things are easy to get: Rainbows, sunsets,
  flowers, girls.  It doesn’t take a genius to appreciate the beauty
  of such things.  But other things, like opera, modern art
  sculptures, and Lindsay Lohan are just out of my reach.  It takes
  great effort on my part to appreciate them at all.  Most of the
  time, I would rather concede that it takes more work than it is worth
  to enjoy it, and thusly, I leave it alone.  So therefore, when I
  went to the Smithsonian Museum of Art last week with my old housemate,
  I wasn’t really expecting to have a great time.  But lo and
  behold, I was absolutely wrong.

  Take for instance, Monet.  The guy is a classical
  painter.  He paints good stuff.  It looks nice. 
  Yay.  So what?  But as I looked closer (and farther) at these
  paintings of his, I saw something that I was never able to see from a
  replication/poster/photo.  I saw depth.  I saw more than a
  two dimensional painting… it was a vision.  I saw the scene
  through the eyes of a genius.  I learned from grade school that
  the guy uses dots and short strokes to create a scene, but I wasn’t
  able to appreciate it until I saw it person.  Dots and
  tittles!  He made a masterpiece out of that!  It’s like
  taking a bunch of ones and zeroes and making…say, an alternate
  reality universe called a Matrix.  It totally blew my mind into
  the 21st century.

  I saw other things, including some Picasso, and some sculptures, and
  even a modern art exhibit (outside the Holocaust museum) that I started
  to “get.”  I would go into more detail, but I don’t know how many
  of my readers actually care about art, so I’ll just bag it to go. 
  It’s time for pancakes.

  One of my favorite exhibits at the museum was a series of paintings called The Voyage of Life,
  by Thomas Cole.  It absolutely captured my attention and
  amazement.  I enjoyed it so much more when I was able to look at
  it, interpret it, and then read a description about the painting and
  what it meant.  I took pictures of the series so I could share
  with you here, but as I have learned this past weekend, there is
  absolutely no comparison between a photograph and the real thing. 
  There is so much detail lost in translation.  Sorry.  I guess
  you’ll just have to go see it yourself.

   

   

  The Voyage of Life: Childhood

   

   

  The Voyage of Life: Youth

   

   

  The Voyage of Life: Manhood

   

   

  The Voyage of Life:Old Age

   

  Check here to see a different set of reproductions

  I must have been there for 20 minutes, admiring and
  introspecting.  Finally, my old housemate came along and admired
  with me.  He asked me where I was in those paintings.  I told
  him that I am set squarely in the Manhood painting struggling and
  despairing like that man.  Even so, I look back to
  Youth, and try to believe that there is a castle and an adventure to be
  had.  I am unable to let that go.  When I am not looking back
  to youth, I am looking forward to Old Age:  Salvation - freedom
  from the trials and despair.  It is truly despairing to spend any
  amount of time in the manhood portion of this voyage. 

  I realised later, upon reflection, that what I ought to be doing
  right now is praying like the figure in the painting.  When all is
  lost and gone, I cannot look to the past nor hope for the end, I must
  look to my Saviour and depend on Him.

  I asked my housemate where he was on that voyage.  He is on the
  cusp of starting his career, leaving home and going to a place
  that he never expected to be.  He told me that he was still in the
  Youth leg of the voyage, but that Manhood is coming up soon.

  I wonder, I wonder.  I wonder what it will look like for
  him.  I wonder if he will struggle like I am struggling now, and
  struggle like my big bro Chris struggled before me.  I wonder if
  all people go through such phases.  I wonder if there is supposed
  to be an in-between painting between Manhood and Old age – a painting
  that shows more than despair and being lost.  I wonder if there is
  a castle, a real castle that was not illustrated and can be
  found.  I wonder if that path in Youth would have really taken me
  to that vaporous castle in the sky.  What would it have been
  like?  Would it have been any better… or just as bad?  Is
  it too late for me to turn around?  Should I turn around?  Or
  maybe I should just stop pretending to be steering this boat, let go of
  the rudder and lift my hands up in prayer.  Is there something to
  hope for?  I know what the Christian answer is.  But still, I
  wonder…

   

  Where were they going without ever knowing the way?

   

   “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”
  (Proverbs 19:21, NIV).

  • 9:56 pm
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