Should there always be a purpose behind our activities?
Should there always a meaning in our being here and now?
Can it just be enough to draw something without looking for a deeper meaning beyond the enjoyment of drawing it?
Can it just be enough to write something without trying to make any sense out of it beyond the fact that we felt like writing some random thoughts?
Sometimes I feel inspired, and sometimes I think is all an illusion. sometimes I feel like I’m finding the way to manage this anxiety that in some way colours my life and that I can be something different that my anxious self, sometimes I feel fragmented, like there are fragments of dreams, thoughts, stories and poems never voiced, of future, past and present, fragments of me, which do not seem to make sense together, but then things that I did not consciously put together if I do not give up and I continue to try to piece everything together with patience and time a meaningful picture arises, a picture I could not see or even imagine before.
This is a bit what happened a bit with this two Mandalas. One had been left unfinished for quite some time and the other one I had just finished it but I could not understand what it represented for me, what made me drawing in it and colouring it in the way I did, nothing was emerging from it. Then I’m not sure why, I looked at my previous drawings in the sketchbook and I stopped on the one that I left unfinished and I started to add colours to it. Eventually I realized that the two Mandalas together had a sense for me. That sometimes things they are not clear on their own they need something else. Like this two Mandalas needed each other to be complete for me.
And this is a bit what happened with a photograph of some clouds I took some time ago and some random thoughts I wrote recently, that for me they kind of fit together.
So here my random thoughts, the two Mandalas and the photograph.
‘Clouds high above,
pink, purple, grey and blue,
low on my head
can I touch them if I dare enough?
Clouds like cotton candy,
endlessly changing, coming and going,
Can I grasp them if I try hard enough?
No clouds, they are all gone, now.
Have I waited too long?
Have I dreamed too high?
Have I not dared enough?
Or was just simple fate?
Was it something that was never meant to be?’