Quotes: Vera Nazarian
You are faced with a blank slate—a page, a canvas, a block of stone or wood, a silent musical instrument.
You then look inside yourself. You pull and tug and squeeze and fish around for slippery raw shapeless things that swim like fish made of cloud vapor and fill you with living clamor. You latch onto something. And you bring it forth out of your head like Zeus giving birth to Athena.
And as it comes out, it takes shape and tangible form.
It drips on the canvas, and slides through your pen, it springs forth and resonates into the musical strings, and slips along the edge of the sculptor’s tool onto the surface of the wood or marble.
You have given it cohesion. You have brought forth something ordered and beautiful out of nothing.
You have glimpsed the divine.
Best friends are formed by time.
Everyone is someone's friend, even when they think they are all alone.
If the friendship is not working, your heart will know. It's when you start being less than perfectly honest and perfectly earnest in your dealings. And it's when the things you do together no longer feel right.
However, sometimes it takes more effort to make it work after all.
Stick around long enough to become someone's best friend.
It may not be very useful, but it is beautiful.
And sometimes it is enough.
The fool will try to plant them in the same flowerbox.
The florist will sigh and add a wall divider and proper soil to both sides.
The grandparent will move the flowerbox halfway out of the sun.
The child will turn it around properly so that the fern is in the shade, and not the cactus.
The moral of the story?
Kids are smart.
Some things only become visible to us when they undergo change.
We take for granted all the constant, fixed things, and eventually stop paying any attention to them. At the same time we observe and obsess over small, fast-moving, ephemeral things of little value.
The trick to rediscovering constants is to stop and focus on the greater panorama around us. While everything else flits abut, the important things remain in place.
Their stillness appears as reverse motion to our perspective, as relativity resets our motion sensors. It reboots us, allowing us once again to perceive.
And now that we do see, suddenly we realize that those still things are not so motionless after all. They are simply gliding with slow individualistic grace against the backdrop of the immense universe.
And it takes a more sensitive motion instrument to track this.
Eventually you've eaten your fill, and it's time to digest and then make something.
But at some point, it will be time to return to the restaurant.
Because all else is temporary, while beauty and wisdom are the only real and constant aspects of truth that can be perceived by human means.
And I don't mean the kind of surface beauty that fades with age, or the sort of shallow wisdom that gets lost in platitudes.
True beauty grips your gut and squeezes your lungs, and makes you see with utmost clarity exactly what is before you.
True wisdom then steps in, to interpret, illuminate, and form a life-altering insight.
Not all dreams are significant or worth remembering.
But the ones that are . . . happen again.
So, wait for the dream to return. And never be afraid. Instead, consider it an opportunity to learn something profound and possibly wondrous about yourself.