Lessons

A single rain-soaked day, six successive vineyard stops, nearly a bottle of wine and three beers downed in the course of four or five hours can conjure a strange state of being- not quite transcendence, not quite a daze. Waiheke Island, though a key player in the day, did not matter much in the grand scheme of things... though to be honest, does the setting really attribute much at all? Yes the beauty and grandeur of it all is breath-taking, awe-inspiring and any number of other hackneyed phrases, but looking at it deeper down, what is it except an emptiness? This Dharma Blogger does not mean this pessimistically, no on the contrary, I mean this honestly, triumphantly almost: what is emptiness other than a space to fill in? How can wine-guzzling with a bunch of Danish, German, Australian, Canadian and quiet Cambodian students mean much of anything unless the right force (of will or whatever) is applied in the proper places. Now I could spend the post regaling you with detailed recollections of each hour, each stop, each and every vista or wine glass, but no. What exactly would you draw from that? What more than a cardboard placard? Or a bullet-list of itinerary points? What today was, really, can be summed up in a few pretentious sentences:

White haze cutting across the bow of vision and vista; a ferry ride, a bus, six vineyards- the scent of pepper, citrus fruit, salmon mousse and bubbling fat. Warmth behind the eyes (sadness burning off?), soft pressure of rain on uncloaked skin. No sight behind any of the four horizons- East, West, South, North- just green, grey and midday white...

I understand the appeal of painting the world in coherence; I can see the benefit of long, full description... but in the end why? Just because you can understand or perceive, is that enough to join in and participate? No. Abstraction often fills in more than could be said flat out. Because in abstraction there is room for ourselves; broad strokes leave white space for an artists signature, that is what I believe and try to practice. That is in no way a justification for the quality of my work or life experiences, no, if what I write or do is crap, it's crap. If what I write or do is great, then it is great. You fill that in, I do not. Perhaps today can be crafted in even more sparse terms:

Drunk on the island. Mussel shells and noon drizzle. Babel speak. Something missing.

What do I leave for you? What do I tell or show? Very little; some concrete details paint a scene for you- you see a rain, perhaps a beach, water (most definitely), foreign languages and less physically, an absence. It's funny, I meant to write today about wisdom, "zen" knowledge, the lessons of will...  but in the end thought is just running watercolor. Find what cynicism, beauty or hope you will in a statement like that, I don't even know which it holds. Perhaps this is just me coming down off a relatively long day of drinking and eating heavily. Or maybe this is one of those dark, dire moods that ail so many. Or perhaps (and this feels most likely) I just need to paint this post in a certain blank way. I thought to quote some great philosopher. To leave you with a slice of wisdom and metaphysical thought. But, how would that fit a post like this? How would some sort of existential question fall in place here? It wouldn't.