“ Quite understandably, many of us run from the fear of our inherent and all-too-human vulnerability by trying to become a success – as if success (money, position, fame, etc) can relieve us of the fear of being vulnerable and exposed. But the problem is to run away from our vulnerability is to run away from ourselves: they are inextricably linked. Which is why those whose vulnerability cannot be hidden under a fancy suit have so much to teach us. According to Vanier, those who are often rejected by society as unimportant embody the most important truth of them all: that of what it means to be human.”
“ Grace is accepting the fact that we are accepted despite the fact that we are unacceptable. “
“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because death is very likely the single best invention of life. It is life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true. Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
“When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds: Your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction, and you find yourself in a new, great and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.”
From a Guardian interview…….” His father’s deafness impacted on his relationship with his mother, Hockney says. “I am sure he never heard a word my mother said for the last 10 years of his life, because she spoke so softly.” Are there any advantages to being deaf? He thinks, and a smile dances across his face. “Well, most people are talking a lot of crap, aren’t they?”
“The reason for continuing to be an artist lies in an everyday rediscovery of what remains to be said, or done.”
“ In 1972, I set aside a sum to spend on paintings by students at the Royal Academy of Art, the Royal College of Art, the Slade School of Fine Art and other institutions, and continued these purchases for nearly 20 years before running out of enthusiasm and hope. By then, I had more paintings than I could hang, and was sick of finding stacked canvases in every room. A handful of painters survived to become professional, but the rest graduated to the security of being a handyman in a home for delinquent children, a train driver on the Underground and so on – the last straw was my being served by one behind the cheese counter in Harrods. “
“To succeed and survive as an artist, one must develop serious perseverance, strength of character, an unshakable work ethic and confidence. Artistic trends, attitudes, and appreciation change frequently, so you must be able to see beyond the successes and failures you may experience.”
Looking for your light
By Allama Prabhu (12th Century)
English version by A. K. Ramanujan
Looking for your light,
I went out:
it was like the sudden dawn
of a million million suns,
a ganglion of lightnings
for my wonder.
O Lord of Caves,
if you are light,
there can be no metaphor.
“If You Knew”
by Ellen Bass
What if you knew you’d be the last
to touch someone?
If you were taking tickets, for example,
at the theater, tearing them,
giving back the ragged stubs,
you might take care to touch that palm,
brush your fingertips
along the lifeline’s crease.
When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase
too slowly through the airport, when
the car in front of me doesn’t signal,
when the clerk at the pharmacy
won’t say Thank you, I don’t remember
they’re going to die.
A friend told me she’d been with her aunt.
they’d just had lunch and the waiter,
a young gay man with plum black eyes,
joked as he served the coffee, kissed
her aunt’s powdered cheek when they left.
Then they walked half a block and her aunt
dropped dead on the sidewalk.
How close does the dragon’s spume
have to come? How wide does the crack
in heaven have to split?
What would people look like
if we could see them as they are,
soaked in honey, stung and swollen,
reckless, pinned against time?