Two fragments

This is not my weekword entry; it is not ready yet. But during the search for the poem which I half-remembered and needed to google in order to create my weekword, I came upon this. It is from a text called Fragments of Heraclitus.

Fragment 3
Aetius, Opinions, II, 21, 4 [Doxogr. 351]

The sun is the width of a man's foot.
and
Fragment 6
Aristotle, Météorologiques, B 2, 355a 14
The sun is new every day.

I have no idea what the first means but both fragments are kind of cool.

T-A-D #11 Heart of Weirdness (with apologies to JC)

What in god's name is this??

The contents of my wastepaper basket? The aftermath of a sweetie-gobbling competition? A toilet seat cover?

No. This is the result of one of my brilliant ideas for a conceptual artwork. The initial idea was this: a HUGE heart, at least one metre wide and one and a half metres tall, hanging on the wall behind our bed. It would be covered with smallish white squares of paper, semi-folded, like little buds waiting to open, upon which little notes and quotes would be printed in black. Each square would be attached by hand with red embroidery yarn to the base of the heart. What a fantastic idea! I congratulated myself, and prepared to enter it for the next Venice Biennale, say ...

Luckily I decided to make a smaller one first, just to get an idea of what was involved. I cut the base out of a laminated paper carrier bag, and then proceeded to cut up part of the old i-D fashion magazine which has already yielded much paper goodness. I folded each square. Then I attached each square by hand with the red yarn. It took me half a day. And it looks weird. Lying flat or hanging against the wall (in my study). Maybe it is because I didn't do it in black and white? Or because it is smaller? Would that really have made a difference?

Have you ever had that? A brilliant concept in your head turning into a major disappointment upon execution? Oh dear friends, let me hear your confessions. Let our failures bind us together for a while ...

The Meaning of Mount Misery ...

This is Mount Misery ...

although by now ...

it looks like this ...

About a week ago our neighbours, who live behind us, started to build another house next to ours. It means we will lose the lovely sea view we have from the kitchen and dining area. It will change into a View of a Wall. In addition we will unfortunately lose our morning sun as the new house will be built very close to ours.

Also, this week, a major project I have been relying on to provide work for the next two months was canned by the publisher.

So I have been contemplating the meaning of these annoyances and disappointments in one's life. These Blights on the Horizon of one's Happiness, so to speak. (Just to qualify - I am talking about average frustrations here, not true suffering like having a terminal illness or losing a loved one or having one's house bombed - I would not presume to have the insight or experience to philosophise about such things.)

I have come to two conclusions:

1) Everything is changing, transient, fleeting. When you lose something (like a sea view, in my case), it is a reminder of the transience of life. And that makes one's experience of it so much keener, don't you think? Now, when I wash the dishes, I lift my eyes not only to experience the joy of my Jesse Breytenbach print, but also to linger on the beautiful sea beyond. I am seeing it again, and seeing it properly, for the very reason that I now know it is not permanent, not 'mine', and indeed never was.

2) When something falls through, it is disappointing, true, but it means that one is now free to experience or do something else. A simple mind shift. There is no point nor benefit to focus on the could-haves and the if-onlys.

Dear friends, I hope you are having a great weekend - the weather here is glorious. Glorious! I might go for a swim later ...

New Journal

In the online craft course I am doing, we have been asked to keep a journal and receive prompts on what topics to journal about. I've decided to spend only 10-15 minutes on an entry, and as opposed to my art journal, use only pen and a minimum of colour. Today I did the topic - A Personal Sadness/Disappointment...

Perhaps some background is needed here. The biggest chunk of my working life has been in the IT industry - that is what I chose and what I trained for. In my 30s I got a bee in my bonnet about changing my career (I think one should have at least three careers in one's lifetime), and as I've always been interested in psychology, I did a Psychology degree part-time, while still working in IT and raising 3 kids. Having got my degree I applied for the Masters programme, was rejected, and then spent a year working in a Centre for Troubled Adolescents. A year later I was selected for a Research Masters, was awarded a grant (yay!), prepared the topic for my dissertation and had it approved (yay!!), and suddenly ..... just like that ..... I was cured. Magically, I did not want to be a psychologist after all. Isn't it weird?

But today, wading my way through pages and pages of the BADLY typeset psychology textbook that I'm proofreading, I experienced a moment of sadness. How did I start with having a dream of being a psychologist - and ended up being a proofreader (the lowest of the low ...) of psychology textbooks instead?

Oh well. Here are some other pages in my new journal...

This one was inspired by a comment of Esti of pintama el dia ...

Have a lovely weekend, dears! Here's hoping that you are doing something more interesting than proofreading ...

This is Weird ...

My post on Ozu's films, done today (Thursday 18 Sep) is dated Wednesday 17 September! Yet comments I make on other blogs are dated correctly. My system date is also correct (18 September). Weird. Or maybe there has been some localised cosmic blip and I'm allowed to do Wednesday over. Gee, that is deep. Would I do anything different, I wonder?

The Red Balloon

Yesterday I tied a message to my balloon, bestowing peace & goodwill & happiness on the world.

And then released it. There was no Great Revolt of the Balloons, as in Albert Lamorisse's film. I felt a little sad to let my balloon go.

It meandered along a bit. I think it was afraid to go ...
and then suddenly, it made up its mind ...

and climbed higher into the big blue sky ...

and higher still ... until I had to squint to see it ...

I felt proud of my red balloon, flying off so bravely into the great unknown ...

(Thank you stephanie, for this post, which put an idea into my head ...)

The Most Fleeting Of All

I took this picture last Sunday.

"But because truly being here is so much;

because everything here apparently needs us,

this fleeting world, which in some strange way

keeps calling to us.

Us, the most fleeting of all."

(Rainer Maria Rilke, The Ninth Duino Elegy)

The Silver Rule

I am gearing myself up to wear the black and silver beanie. I've taken it out. I've looked at it. I've tried it on. And taken it off. Why am I afraid of wearing it? It is not that I haven't worn beanies before, I have two: a grey one and a plain black one. See how I am excluding the black and silver beanie? As though I want to deny that I own it. It must be the silver, a colour which my mother has always denounced as 'flashy'. Or perhaps I am concerned that someone might mistake it for the fashionable version of the Aluminium Foil Deflector Beanie which I discovered via Daddy Likey. (Hey, you can learn how to make your own one here to keep those pesky mind-controlling aliens at bay!)

Perhaps I will wear it to my tango lesson tomorrow night. No dear, I mean my silver & black beanie, not the AFDB one. I will pair it with the silver sequinned scarf which also lies in my cupboard, unworn & discarded ...

I am wondering if you also have funny illogical rules - carry-overs from your childhood - that keep you from wearing or doing something?

A message for Thabang, number 695, wherever you are...

I bought a new pair of woolly winter tights last week. It is getting very chilly and I am walking around clutching a hotwater bottle.
You know how some clothing has a sticker on it with a number indicating the person who checked it for flaws? I normally just peel it off and chuck it away. Never really give it another moment's thought. But this one had a number AND a name on it. It caught my eye.

And I started wondering about Thabang. It is a male name, I think. Does Thabang have a wife & children? How does he like his job? What are his dreams and aspirations? Thabang is on my mind this cold & wintery week. I would like to say thank you, Thabang, whoever and wherever you are. Because my tights are indeed flawless ...