Life seems all too perfect, all too unreal.

Sitges, Spain


The waves are crashing
One after another
Do you see this wave coming up?
Look how it moves along the surface

Do you hear the gentle crash against the rocks?
The air smells as it should be

There’s a boat along the horizon
I wonder what it’s doing out there
Maybe catching tonight’s dinner
Or catching this afternoon’s nap

The waves keep crashing along the shore
The sea is truly blue
A deep sigh overcomes me
Beauty surrounds me
Serenity consumes me

The words escape as I ponder what to say next
Should I say something about the town?
Or maybe I should say something about the food?
Perhaps I shouldn’t write about anything at all

Picasso was a talented individual
He painted what he thought he should see
Dark colors with darker scenes
Outside the window, light is found
Inside his mind, darkness distorts his world
Then something happened

Picasso became an artist
He painted what he saw
Not what he thought he should see
Not what his contemporaries saw
Not what his idols saw
He painted the world as it was to him

Brilliant shades of color
Simple beauty all around him

Details became trivial
Colors became primary
Shapes became reality

The Should ceased
The Actual became

The philosopher’s conquest of the Ideal
The artist’s evaluation of the Real
The struggle of the Should in the face of the Actual
The waves are crashing again
Can you hear them?
Can you see those particular shades of blue?

People laugh in the distance
A church bell chimes
Dogs are being dogs
Children of all ages are enjoying their gelato

The waves crash
Time and time again
Over and over
One after another

I sit there in awe
The company keeps me tethered as my mind sails off

This can’t be real
How could it be?

Life is all too perfect
But life isn’t perfect
So how can this be Life?

A simple deduction leaves me confused

Reasonably speaking we are too certain
Certainly speaking we are too reasonable

Except for those times when we’re not

When we encounter the beauty around us
Or the serenity before us
When Picasso picked up his brush and dropped off his rationality
When we step outside ourselves to experience something else entirely

When we discover the boundaries of our comfort zone
When we feel ourselves expanding past the mundane
When we are challenged to our very essence

One step makes that next step easier
The direction is of no importance
One step in or one step out
Left or right
Up or down
We must keep moving

The start of our lives is surely different than the end
Surely we aren’t destined to run in circles
Lap after lap until we’ve finally gone far enough
A sufficient distance
Enough to call it a Life

Surely we are meant to run distances
To cross countries
To climb mountains
To sail seas
To see the world as it is and not how it should be

The waves are crashing now
The rocks are there to receive them
I am there to listen
Serenity finds itself before me
I find myself at peace
Life seems all too perfect, all too unreal.

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