Rene and Georgette Magritte and their Dog after the War

By flight..... the other day between LAX and Tucson, I spent with a nice young man....we chatted in 9A and 9B. Only until he borrowed the bathroom on this short flight, did I notice as he moved from his seat to that of standing; did I mind you, take note that he had no legs. He walked...with the help of implements. As he was gone, my mind wandered to how lucky my life has been.

He returned....and told me his story of war. Sad.........but he started life once more. He moved on, he survived...he became.

But it reminded me of an artist....who returned after a war and found himself working around demons and forbidden dreams. But upon finding his future wifeGeorgette, he moved on with life and took his demons and turned them into surrealist existence of what was, for after all in his own words 'no matter how naturalistically we depict an object, we never do catch the item itself."

So true...with the young man on the plane. We or us or anyone who views will depict his existence based upon what is not existing, as opposed to what is. So, we lack the ability to catch the person themselves as our eyes are deceived by what is, rather than, well.... the deep forbidden music.

Now this connection between man and artist and artist and man and painting, made me think, if not just for a minute. You see, once a time and not that long ago, I was walking past a wall in a shelter on the beach in Australia and startling myself to a degree, came across this juvenile mynah merely existing....staying alive. Far from its mom...it had none too much of a life to look forward to I was afraid. Just a mere manikin, a mynah pretending to be.

With respect.....with respect....I gave the bird 'space'....so as not to alarm. I left and wandered on down the beach, thinking all along of the juvenile bird and pondered the time it had left. 

I dined that night with my daughter and as her kids fell asleep and she came about, I wondered what was in their future? More perhaps than that of the mynah I hope. All tucked in and ready to face another day with mom and dad to support and guide with loving hands. Not that much difference between the Mynah sitting in the nest and having the shelter of being high and the privilege of a mom who provided food...

Or....Magrette, prior to war....prior to demons....or to the young man on the plane, prior to war, ....to a time when he ran down the block or thru the park. 

For you see....I hope you understand....that we all start out with 'all'....and one by one we lose a bit of what defines, as the years consume us... Be it legs....be it realism, be it the safety of a nest or arms of mom. 

We too will reach a time where we come home and find our belongings entwined with other things. We are simply left with 'us' and perhaps a dog and find hidden within the cabinets of our hearts; a moon that continues to glow, for now and ever after......as it was before.