Claude Monet: Étretat: The Beach and the Falaise d’Amont (1885)

Nothing Else To Find
I might be the most fortunate SOB in this universe. Even so, not everything in my life goes according to plan. Heck, only some things I do seem necessarily planable, but I abide. I have been aging every inch of my way, though aging, being almost imperceptible from day to day, never seems prominent. I take stock each year as Summer starts waning and my birthday reappears. The Muse's birthday follows a few days later, and in the course of a week, we've successfully recalibrated. I nap more than I used to. I hesitate more before writing. When I started this writing streak seven years ago, I seemed fearless, though cluelessness more likely explains my behavior.

I worry whether my writing will prove up to standard, a standard I have yet to define or enforce. I do not want to live on purpose but on something more like an accident. I want what I create to remain mysterious, if not necessarily to my readers. I prefer to believe it's an expression more than a creation; creations need too much deliberation and design before beginning. I cannot command that I be spontaneous, for that command co-opts what spontaneity requires. I might live accidentally on purpose, the purpose an emergent property of engagement. It must not be all that important that I know beforehand what I'll create, but more necessary that I discover something I can relate to when creating or just after. I still do not know how to write, though I'm coming to understand when to write. I might have nothing else to find if I can muster the foolhardiness to write when it's time.

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Weekly Writing Summary


This Grace Story, BackAlmostToGo, finds me getting a little far ahead of myself and experiencing a great and, hopefully, someday, equally glorious failure.

Kees de Goede: Studie Innerworld Outerworld I/, Naar Mug Stegner [Study Innerworld Outerworld I/, To Mug Stegner] (1987)
" … I'll be faunching to get moving again."
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This Grace Story finds me witnessing the most humbling experience in this existence: simultaneously MovingOut/In/Up/On. It never happens any other way!

Louis Léopold Boilly: The Movings (1822)
" … every damned one of those took considerable getting used to."
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This Grace Story finds me experiencing Redemption, a state that invariably arrives a tad too late for the sin not to leave a lasting impression; thank Heavens!

John Singer Sargent: Death and Victory (1922)
" … the forgivable sin of project work."
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This Grace Story finds The Muse and I engaging in our annual set of *Sacraments intended to preserve our sanity. This story proved to be the most popular this week!

Carla Liss, Designed by George Maciunas, Published by Fluxus: Sacrament Fluxkit, (early 1970s)
" … enough to fully satisfy our legacy …"
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This Grace Story, GiftsDiffering, describes my attempts to appreciate diversity and inclusion on my porch refurbishment project. We're each deep down different, which renders us quite similar.

Matthijs Maris: Fairytale ( c. 1877)
" … surprise and perhaps even delight us in the end."
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This Grace Story finds me realizing that we've entered a period of Quantum Politics, where the MAGA opposition suddenly seems capable only of operating ironically, a welcome realignment of a burned-out movement. It's Flipped!

Jack Gould: Untitled [boy doing backflip on trampoline] (c. 1950)
"Weird seems to be the word of the moment."

—

This writing week began with a direction to proceed AlmostBackToGo without collecting anything like the usually-expected two hundred dollars. Our porch refurbishment project had encountered its wall. A footing poured too shallow and a failed inspection combined to make the effort more real than it had thus far been. I entered the weekend without knowing if we'd have to start all over again. I traveled to help my son move since I now own a pick-up truck. The obligation comes with the possession. I re-realized that there's really no such thing as moving home. Sunday brought Redemption as our consulting engineer proposed a clever resolution for our new dilemma. The Muse and I took a break from our passion play to seek our usual late summer Sacraments, essential to our continued viability. I reflected on how differences seem to be the strength of our effort, however halting and occasionally wrong-headed. I ended my writing week celebrating what might be Quantum Politics. We might be at the beginning of reconsidering what we mean by political engagement. Thank you for following along!

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Grace, #PureSchmaltz