I just don’t know.
I am still trying to make sense of the attacks in Paris, trying to understand the logic of terrorism and how people are convinced to follow any quasi-religious group that advances its beliefs through such violence. It all defies logic and that is a terrifying thing because how can you fight against, let alone negotiate with, such an illogical entity?
What is lacking that would drive people to such acts? What is missing that drives young people to join these groups in order to give their lives to hurt and kill others? Is it real religious conviction or is it just a matter of them feeling a sense of purpose that they either can’t find or refuse to feel in the world in which they were raised?
I just don’t know. But I do fear that this marks a tipping point, that we are in for a long and even uglier struggle, if you can imagine that, going forward. It may be that we are already in the beginning days of a type of World War III as the Pope has said recently. I hope not but when you are dealing with the illogical there’s no telling where this goes.
But my heart bleeds for the people of France. Part of me wants to jump on a plane to Paris just as a sort of ‘screw you’ to those who wish that country harm, just to let them know that their terror based on a warped and hateful religious vision will not stand up to people who try to live by the motto, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.
Liberty. Equality. Fraternity. These are the uniting qualities of humanity, not just of France, and will not be taken away through a campaign based on fear and hatred. These are words that we need now more than in any time in the recent past.
Okay, let’s take deep breath. Today’s Sunday music is a fitting tribute written by the great American songwriter, Cole Porter. Although there are many, many great versions out there, I chose this one from jazz great Etta Jones– not to be confused with Etta James of “At Last” fame. Have a great day and keep the people of France in your thoughts. Here’s I Love Paris.
At a show many years ago, I had an old woodsman jokingly tell me that my trees were so twisty and crooked that he could barely get a board foot of lumber from them. I can’t imagine what he would do with the trees that make up the Crooked Forest located in a corner of western Poland.
I just love the paintings of Henri Rousseau. It’s not something that I can quantify in any way. It’s not just the harmony of color and form or the subject matter or even the way it is painted. There’s just such a great sense of rightness in the work, a great sense that this is the artists’s reality. It just reaches out and allows you to step easily into it while still maintaining a feeling of depth and emotion, a quality that many artists seek but few find.
You can’t think a story — you can’t think, “I shall do a story to improve mankind.” It’s nonsense! All the great stories, all the really worthwhile plays, are emotional experiences. If you have to ask yourself whether you love a girl, or whether you love a boy, forget it — you don’t! A story is the same way — you either feel a story and need to write it, or you’d better not write it.
I was and wasn’t surprised by the reaction to my last post where I noted a recent period of being deeply down in the dumps. Almost instantly, well wishes and advice came from many quarters and to all of those who offered kind words I extend my most heartfelt gratitude. The reaction was very reassuring, to say the least. But that doesn’t surprise me as those people who might read the blog or follow my work tend to be feeling, empathetic beings.
I’ve been in a pretty deep funk lately. I wasn’t going to write about this at all though I am sure it seeps into the writing that I do post. But in the name of transparency I thought I would share a few words on the subject.
I found myself awake late one night this past week watching a film I’d seen a couple of times before. It was He Who Gets Slapped, a silent film from 1924 which was the first film made by the then new movie studio MGM. It stars Lon Chaney in a pretty grim and tragic story ( it is based on a Russian play after all) that is sometimes hard to watch and hard to turn away from at the same time. On this particular night I couldn’t look away.
But a great film it is. The imagery of the clowns in the film is quite remarkable and haunting. Whenever I see this film or Chaney’s other dark clown classic, Laugh, Clown, Laugh,(it was on right after He but I couldn’t take that much pain in one sitting) I am not surprised that many people have coulrophobia, the fear of clowns. It made me do a quick search for some GIF’s with clowns and putting them together is quite creepy.
Redtree Times 