Impression of contentment

Over the past few weeks, my thoughts roamed back to this gorgeous post by Sue Vincent. I returned to it again this morning, knowing all the while that I would share it.

There’s something sacred about growing up and growing older – a contemplative wisdom gathered through the passage of time. In order to reflect back, one must have moved forward. Age transforms our relationship with life through changing perspectives. Sue deftly and beautifully associates life’s transitions with artistic styles, moving from sharp edges and crisp lines to the rich hues and deep contentment of the heart.

If you missed it…here it is again.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, Pablo Picasso Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, Pablo Picasso image Wikipedia

I never really got contentment. “Are you happy?” I once asked a friend. “No, but I am content,” was his reply. To me, it wasn’t enough. It seemed like accepting some kind of mediocrity. I was young then and life was lived in all the vivid hues of passion. Emotion ran sky high or hit the depths… the times in between were bland, a mere waiting for the next rise and fall of the rollercoaster.

Emotions, back then, were all sharp-edged, like a cubist painting… and like such works, always disassembling the object of them to examine them from every angle. Some of the edges were so sharp you would bleed if you touched them… but you were alive. There were no in-between days of grey and dun.

Alizarine: sandorfi, maklary Alizarine: Etienne Sandorfi, image: Maklary

A little older and the days took on a greater…

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3 thoughts on “Impression of contentment

  1. Sue Vincent says:

    Thank you sharing, Diana!

    Liked by 1 person

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