The nagging commotion of business, chores and conversation disturbs my attempt at a much needed meditation, scribbling over the warm and gentle smile of morning, clogging the pores of my ability to soak in the energy of rejuvenation, with the itching and swelling of its injected poisons. I am constantly interrupted from basking in the glow of God’s gifts, for swatting away its nuisances and scratching at its insults.
Like a baby crying, the world incessantly and urgently calls for my attention, a neediness born in its own insecurity, a dependence I seek to emancipate myself from, its parasitic hunger draining me of all natural joy. It reminds me, gloating, that it has furnished or facilitated much of my comfort, in my business with it, trading convenience for servitude. Obviously I resent this “arrangement”, while resigned to consider its inevitability. This is the world I live in… but is my relationship to it inevitable?
The things I purchase and “own” to enjoy… are they not available for free? The trees, a seat, water, herbs, time, sun and air? But man has made a mess of things, transforming this world into a marketplace where any and everything is for sale. I am not an animal who lives in the jungle and makes my home in its branches, or beside its streams. The jungles are gone now anyway, laid waste for development. The water is polluted. I must now pay for clean water. I must buy plants which don’t not grow anymore without a receipt. I have to earn a vacation…
I find myself stealing what used to be free… even those things introduced by a corrupt world and presented as natural. I too have been tainted. I have learned to enjoy the lies, even desire them. My lenses are tinted… prescribed… I no longer see with my own eyes. I see what the world wants me to, and make it fit into my understanding, justifying through interpretation the art in artificial. Artificial. Art official. The official art. Unsanctioned works be damned.
Antonio Carlos Jobim – Manha de Carnaval