Revisiting Montaigne's essay "Use Makes Perfect" just now, I was reminded of his personalist insights regarding the rambling and uncertain pace of the soul, and its intricate internal windings. Having little of a universalist cast to share and not feeling much like writing these days, somewhat reluctantly I turn to the personal.
Last week I visited the coast of Maine to help one of my sisters with a variety of tasks. Given that in Colorado we just experienced the winter that wasn't, I found myself revelling in the snow and cold rain. Plus those glimpses of the ocean were a tantalizing balm for the soul. One of these years I need to spend a week or two on Monhegan Island to get my fill of the North Atlantic - breathing in the salt air, beholding the waves breaking on the rocks for hours on end, and simply being.
On the writing front, progress on my Aristotle book has slowed somewhat because as I move along the material becomes more knotty, which is forcing me to revisit Aristotle's works and my copious notes on the scholarly literature to figure out what I want to say. However, before traveling to Maine I completed the first draft of chapter 3, so I'm now halfway done. This book has been on my project list for years and I'm excited about finally putting pen to paper. (Actually I am writing this book in the notes app shared between my computer and phone, which enables me to write and edit whenever the fancy strikes me.)
Art continues to be a source of solace for me, but only certain kinds of art. Since Elisa's passing, and in fact for months before that, I have been unable to read novels or poems, nor have I been able to listen to music with words; somehow my feelings are still too raw for these art forms. However, purely instrumental music is fine, thus I've been immersing myself in classical music most mornings and jazz most afternoons. Recent favorites are J.S. Bach (as always), Gabriel Fauré, Bill Evans, and Thelonious Monk. Because my guitar teacher suggested that I learn a prelude by Bach (BWV 999), much of my practice time has been devoted to that enjoyable and rewarding task. I've also continued a tradition started last year of reading biographies of jazz musicians (Bill Evans and Lennie Tristano have been the latest subjects) and I've been digging into books about my favorite painters (especially Jan Vermeer and Joaquín Sorolla). As to my own creations, I've been making progress on several musical compositions and hope to have them in shape to share more widely later this year.
In remembrance of Elisa, I've purchased a work of art by Colorado sculptor Rosetta that we had talked about buying last year for a special location in our house, above a fireplace we added a few years ago. Because of her illness we didn't make that happen at the time, but I reached out to Rosetta and she still had one of her "Lion Mask" castings available. It was Elisa who discovered Rosetta's work and this is the third sculpture of hers we've acquired, which makes it even more meaningful. Hanging the mask on the wall turned out to be something of a challenge because the sheetrock had degraded there (perhaps because of the heat?), but after several trips to Home Depot I was able to assign the king of beasts to his rightful place of honor.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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