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quietlynavigating

August 3rd, 2013

real life is gritty. very gritty. if real life were a movie, it wouldn't be something created by Hollywood because the audience would be too niche.

so this brings me onto something i want to talk about, which is emotions. whenever i see a beautiful painting of a woman, and through the window i see a beautiful summer's day with golden cornfields or i see a typical picturesque autumn day with trees and an assortment of red, yellow, orange and brown leaves gliding in the wind; i sense a feeling that i have very rarely (if ever) experienced that feeling the woman is in my life. the one where you feel things are perfect and everything is perfect.

after my initial "AAAHHH how beautiful!" feelng, my mind always moves on to think how unreal that is and the beautiful nude woman half covered under the silk sheets in this painting, very possibly has a whole host of problems and things weighing on her mind, the details of which are not privy to us.

is it possible to feel that way? is it possible for one's life to be that perfect? the answer is very predictable and cliched, life is as perfect as you deem it, in that you can cycle over and over all your problems and stresses, or you can be content and grateful for what you have and consider these issues within your life as minor hurdles,

i suppose the way i look at the aforementioned hypothetical painting tells you (and me) more about me than it does reveal anything about the painting. my viewing of the painting as if i have given up on really pleasant positive emotions and feelings and resorted to cynicism and looking down upon pleasant things and bringing them down to my level.

this idea of being content; being happy with what you have, which is probably made up of an understanding of several things: the fickleness of life and death, the inconsequentiality of it all, being grateful for what you do have, being mindful of what does make you happy and its importance over your problems.

in the end, this idea that real life is gritty is just a point of view. having written this, i think it is as gritty as you make it and it is very possible to coast through even terrible life events by consistently being mindful and with a perspective; but being able to do that just sounds like a mental illness?

also, i find it interesting that when looking at these pictures, it's an assumption i'm making that the woman is happy and everything is perfect, painter may not have even painted her to look happy. this probably also links in some way to how i have always viewed as everyone's life (except the most extreme cases) as better than mine