I sat down a while ago to write my blog for today and promptly fell asleep. For some reason that made me think of Gray’s Elegy* (again), and all the human, random, capricious reasons for goofing off, for non-creation.
*Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard is a poem by Thomas Gray, completed in 1750 and first published in 1751. The poem's origins are unknown, but it was partly inspired by Gray's thoughts following the death of the poet Richard West in 1742.
When confronted by art in any form (not that my blog is a work of art)—by creation in any form, we don’t stop to think about the physical, mental or emotional state of the creator. I mean did Da Vinci have a toothache? Van Gogh had a bad ear (tinnitus, we are told) but did he have a runny nose i.e. a cold? We have been informed that Napoleon and Thomas Edison slept only about 4 hours a night (let’s hear it for naps!). Of course, the past unsung, nameless, creative heroines are ignored, the ones who comforted teething babies, fed a hungry family, soothed a dying patriarch to sleep. There have been so many reasons not to create or to achieve anything it’s a wonder that any beauty has survived the perils and pitfalls of life.
I’m still here, still struggling, and I can’t write anything now. I still have my book to edit. No blog today.
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene, /The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: /Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen, /And waste its sweetness on the desert air. “
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.