Summer Moon

We’re all titans, the formers of what are yet to come. Usually, similar to that of the characters in Nescio, my friends and I enjoy doing “nothing.” That is, to us, the expansion of the mind in some way shape or form. Personally, my outlet to transpose thoughts is through music. Similarly, relating to the character who paints, I too struggle with the idea that what I am doing is pointless, I mean what is the purpose of creating a sound for others to hear? On my walk, reflecting on this as a main theme, I continuously pondered the idea that music is the only thing that stays when everything and everyone is gone. This can be broken down into a few different antidotes. First, for me, music is always there when a friend or family member isn’t. Second, when I am gone, and or, not present, my music can be heard and is a reflection of my soul and views of the world. Like Nescio, the unknown doesn’t bother me, I continuously am questioning why things are the way they are; yet, with a constant understanding that I cannot fully alter that which I see. It interests me to see friends and acquaintances from my past, especially this summer. I notice who has lived up to their dreams and who has succumbed to the ever so average and mundane system; however, there are still some who fail in measurable accolades, but still shine a bright light every time I encounter them. “I sit there aimlessly. God’s aim is aimlessness.”

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2 thoughts on “Summer Moon

  1. I want to echo the value of “nothingness.” This may be a stretch, but there is a lot of “nothing” in some Dutch landscape paintings and engravings–wide open sky, wide open fields, and even a “lot of nothing” in scenes of everyday life. You’ll have a chance to explore some of those later.

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  2. Nothingness is good for the soul. I think Bavink was half-right in his observations about painting. To create art is to capture a small essence of God, and a pleasurable artist is one who can use this essence to create harmony. But Bavink was too caught up in purpose: his frustration stemmed from not knowing why he ought to paint or fearing what its consequences might be. The world we live in seeks to admonish emptiness and fill life with meaning, purpose, and growth. But there is an important revelation in the wisdom Nescio gains in his age: if “God’s aim is aimless,” then humans, too, must be allowed some aimlessness of their own, for if we cut out the nothingness from our lives, then we lose a piece of God.

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