Tag Archives: Impermanence

Painting Kindness

My friend Steph posted on Facebook yesterday.  She shared images of “kind” graffiti.  Here’s one:

It got me thinking.  Ghent has Graffiti Street, a winding lane that offers artists the chance to express their essence.  In time, older works are painted over by fresh creations.  Oh …how impermanent this life is!

I wandered over this morning.  Here are a few things I found:

I am being welcomed!  I’m not sure to what but that doesn’t matter.  “I’m glad you’re here.”

Yes.  “Please look down and find the beauty in this artist’s work.  I really want you to see what I see.”

These painted tiles were placed way above those who stroll by.  “This time look up.  And please … see the people you love.”

And then, sitting beside the words, are the colours.  This is not a fence.  It’s a gateway.  Feel the invitation to pass through, to sit on the bench with a new or known loved one.

Now the artist: Klaas paints all over Ghent.  It’s his passion.  He told me about the two steam trains.  Over the next few hours, they will be transformed into eyes.  And the black shapes at the bottom will become the mouth, formed by silhouettes of folks walking Graffiti Street.  Cool.

And further down the road, another artist will paint over Klaas’ face.  I have a feeling that my friend will smile … and find another canvas.

Phlox

They’re little flowers, some of them purple and some of them white, that grow in ditches and woodlots in Southwestern Ontario.  They’re very pretty.  I first encountered these beauties in June, 1990 when I took the bus across the country to find an apartment for Jody and me in London.  I was walking in the woods near Western University, rounded a corner on the trail and came face-to-face with a bevy of floral sublimity.

Did I just say “bevy of floral sublimity”?  Hmm.  Perhaps it’s a mental problem.

Phlox only blossom during the first two weeks of June.  So like human lives, we need to cherish them while they’re with us.   I read an article recently (Or did I listen to a talk?  Or did a friend just say it to me?) about beautiful things being beautiful because they’re impermanent.  I believe that’s true.  Jody’s great spirit was a blessing to me.  I revere the moments we had together, knowing that, in this physical life, they are now gone.  But Jodiette, may we rediscover each other in different bodies next time.

I drove to the small town of Bothwell today to visit a friend.  Bunches of phlox said hi along the way.  I wanted to possess them, make them mine forever.  Sorry, guy.  Life doesn’t work that way.  For part of the trip, I scanned the horizon, left and right, trying so very hard to find phlox.  Eventually I woke up and let that intense focus fade away.  From then on, my eyes softened, and phlox sometimes just came into view.  I took in the broad canvas of the natural world as I reflected on Jody’s words:  “I am all trees, Bruce.  I welcome you everywhere.”  Soft welcoming feels so much better than concentrated searching.

Thank you for today, dear phlox.  See you next year, I hope.