“The keys are right beneath your fingers baby, you just gotta play em”
-Ray Charles
—
Hands waving everywhere. Pushing. Shoving. Some sort of Cantanese, Bahasa variant, Russian, Indian, all being shouted all at once.
A 3,000 year old sculpture made 2,000 years before god was even created; a painting which gazes into the depths of your soul; a statue of the perfect woman.
And some sort of Cantanese, Bahasa variant, Russia, Indian, all being shouted all at once.
Hands everywhere. Cameras flashing everywhere.
—
I need more drinks and less lights. And that American apparel girl in just tights.
-Kanye, from “Gorgeous”
—
I looked at her. She looked back at me. I looked at her again. She looked back at me again.
I don’t know how long it was. A couple waves of crowds had rolled by.
21st century humanity… Selfies. Pushing. Shoving. Mayhem. Finite mayhem.
Then me… gazing… anchored Parisian timelessness.
—
Every time I look at a good piece of art I just get lost.
I fucking suck at painting. I don’t know the first thing about where to even start.
And it doesn’t give me some deep respect for painters. Or envy or anything. I just suck at it lol.
But I get lost in paintings sometimes. Some pieces. Truly. Complete peace and calmness. Couldn’t tell you why.
And it’s funny… because something that I’m so not involved in… that I don’t understand at all… the effect that it gives me gives me a deeper appreciation than I ever could have if I understood the first thing about it
—
This wine is too good for toast drinking my dear. You can’t toast drink with a wine like that, you’ll lose the taste
-Hemingway, from Sun Also Rises
[I know I quote this nearly in everything I write]
—
We just sort of got lost in each other.
Complete serenity.
If I was at some other point in life I don’t know what would have happened.
But now, the simple eye contact of something completely indifferent to me.
Something that wasn’t even real.
It was a mirror right back into my soul. Into myself.
It was the all seeing eye.
It was God.
God as a woman.
Just simply looking.
No matter where you go. There it is. Still looking.
That same indifferent expression. Calm folded hands.
It’s the Buddha, the observer, the lama, the priest, God, Christ… all in one…
—
“The keys are right beneath your fingers baby, you just need to play them.”
—
We are the answer. We’re all our own answer.
If you can look at the Mona Lisa and you feel calm. If her gaze watching you around the room brings you serenity. You’ve done it. You’re delivered.
_
You’re your own answer.
—
I’m writing this in one of the many french bistros in the 6th district.
The Paris run club is going by.
Purple and greens.
All different shapes and sizes.
Some smiling, some laughing, some huffing and puffing
—
“The. Keys. Are. Right. Beneath. Your. Fingers. You. Just. Need. To. Learn. How. To. Play. Them.”
—
What if god was watching everything you did. And what if you were just OK with that?
The good, the bad… what if you were just OK with it?
What if you didn’t have to lie? Cuz you’re not gonna fool him.
What if you didn’t have to perform? Didn’t care about the opinions of man? Didn’t serve some perfunctory and temporary culture? Didn’t give value to someone thinking you’re cool / sexy / smart… whatever…
Just simply accepted. Tried to do a good job. Stewarded the blessing you had, and didn’t grasp for the ones you think you should have.
What if you just asked for forgiveness and moved the fuck on. And listened a little more and tried a little harder next time.
_
The keys are right there. He speaks in a whisper. But they’re all right there.
—
But how the fuck are you going to learn how to play em if you’re shouting and screaming and waving your fucking hand and taking a fucking picture of a painting to post to your friends as some symbol saying “this is how to live! I’m grasping the essence of life! Look at me at me! Experiencing timeless history!”
Get out of the fucking way.
Accept. Observe. Forgive. Listen for the whisper. Don’t grasp. Integrate the lesson. Let go. Adjust. Move forward. Slowly and patiently move forward.
—
This wine is too good for toast drinking etc etc etc lol.
OK I’ll explain it. And I’m almost afraid to because it’s so simple to understand, and so many ppl aren’t doing it, but it’s just so fucking simple.
You can’t toast because you’re appreciating… the toast is a distraction… The pomp is a distraction. The circumstance is a distraction… the picture is a distraction… trying to capture, remember, dress-up… it’s a fucking distraction
It’s all going away! All of that stuff, it’s going away…
Essence is a simple experience. That’s it. A simple, present and grounded experience.
And that’s what’ll bring you to tears.
It’s just. So. Fucking. Simple.
Shutup. Slow down. Let go. Breathe in and breathe out, it might be the last time you do it. Don’t see. Don’t fear. Just experience. Savor it like a good cup of coffee. Every sip of it.
Publius
letters from publius. 