(Warning: The following is a bit of personal observation, sans pretty photos. If you’re not feeling philosophical or you came only for the eye candy, feel free to skip this post…)
It’s meant to be funny: In Hamlet, Polonius is determined to convince the Queen that her son, Hamlet, is filled with madness. The Queen, in turn, responds “more matter with less art.” Meaning, quit being rhetorical and give me something of substance.
Ophelia has the makings of a classic tragic heroine — she could overcome Hamlet’s constant mind games, or at least cry for a few days and eat gallons of ice cream, but instead she completely loses her mind and becomes merely tragic.
More matter, less art.
There’s crazy-making going on all around. Is it the time of year? I feel I’m at the center of some kind of whirlwind of stubbornness and denial and passing of blame and assurances that things will change “after this happens,” and “after that happens,” and “after I figure things out” and all this really does is amount to over-dramatization and one particular person using like, the most hyperbole of anyone, ever, and holy crap is anyone even listening?
I think the unbearable part is that in most of these scenarios, the madness is entirely volitional.
Is it even possible to live the ne plus ultra of balance and patience? Matter AND art?
I’m still trying. Thanks to my eternal pal Jon for reminding me recently of this:
“We think that the point is to pass the test or
to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get
solved. They come together and they fall apart.”