God’s creations are imperfect.
STRIKING, SHOCKING, SIMPLY SCHIAPARELLI! ~ a woman I would have wanted to have met. From faux tie, to “scarpapello” she was not afraid to dress up and have outrageous fun; well manicured gloves and artistic gowns and eye glasses to die for!
Are you not challenged when you hear that someone died peacefully, at home or in their bed or seated in a favorite chair?
That’s how the death of the Norweigian artist was described. But gazing at the works of Edvard Much who was quoted as saying: “ Disease, insanity and death are the black angels that guard my cradle and follow me throughout my life,” it’s hard to believe that was the case for this artist.
From “The Scream” to “Death in a Sickroom” grief seemed to surround him and was always clearly defined in his works. I can’t help thinking that Munch was trapped in his own artwork, just screaming, dying to get out, tormented to the end of his days.
It’s time for a change and a story:
Once upon time there was a woman; a goddess and mother. And there was a man. A man and woman, not married to each other…
and one more thing, lots of sex!
King of the gods, Zeus the Greek man of all men, father of the gods. He had it all.
But he wanted her:
Mnemosyne, a Titan and temptress, the goddess of memory, remembrance and the inventress of language and words. Of note, she represented the rote memorization which was required before the introduction of writing, so as to preserve the stories of history and the sagas of myths.
Along came Zeus.
And, as the story goes, they slept together… for nine consecutive nights.
And Mnemosyne gave birth to nine muses:
And so it begins…
Dad loved the work he did. He called it simple work. But he simply loved it and people loved him. Whether he was working as a father, a career volunteer, in the church or at the office, he loved his work. And his attitude was infectious.
Mother wore her work like a badge of honor. Every story she told ended with a sigh and… “I did this work for my family.”
Conflicted by my parents’ messages, my dad’s attitude toward work resonated with me. The stronger, more positive spirit won out, and as I recall during my imaginary playtime, I announced happily, “I am off to work now!”
Thinking back on the many gifts I received from my parents on the business of work, what burns brightest is the light that illuminated their lives, expressing their greatest values. The legacy of doing versus just being was a strong lesson. “At work, do your work joyfully,” dad would say adding, ” when it’s family time be present!”
Early on, little ones pretend to be mommies and daddies. As their world grows larger, the young child imitates the role of doctor or police officer. Subliminally they want to serve and make things better! Why does that change?
All too soon the self-absorbed teen searches for ways to chase a paycheck. The shift in values begins. Young adults see their lives fragmented; you get a job, earn a salary and the rest of your time is spent on doing things that bring temporary happiness.
But I would argue that work and life are connected. Both are driven by the Spirit. What spirit of work do you impart in your home? How are your experiences with work shaping your son or daughter’s attitude and perspective?