“Loneliness is not found by having no one to touch, but instead in letting yourself be touched…” — www.ricksreviewz.wordpress.com

“Louis Moore was used to a quiet life. Being a quiet man, he endured it better than most men would. Having a large world of his own in his own head and heart, he tolerated confinement to a small, still corner of the real world very patiently…

“I used rather to like Solitude—to fancy her a somewhat quiet and serious, yet fair nymph; an Oread, descending to me from lone mountain-passes, something of the blue mist of hills in her array and of their chill breeze in her breath, but much also of their solemn beauty in her mien. I once could court her serenely, and imagine my heart easier when I held her to it—all mute, but majestic.

“Since that day I called Shirley to me in the schoolroom, and she came and sat so near my side; since she opened the trouble of her mind to me, asked my protection, appealed to my strength—since that hour I abhor Solitude. Cold abstraction, fleshless skeleton, daughter, mother, and mate of Death!

“It is pleasant to write about what is near and dear as the core of my heart. None can deprive me of this little book, and through this pencil I can say to it what I will—say what I dare utter to nothing living—say what I dare not think aloud.

“I know this is the talk of a dreamer—of a rapt, romantic lunatic. I do dream. I will dream now and then; and if she has inspired romance into my prosaic composition, how can I help it?

“What a child she is sometimes! What an unsophisticated, untaught thing! I see her now looking up into my face, and entreating me to prevent them from smothering her, and to be sure and give her a strong narcotic. I see her confessing that she was not so self-sufficing, so independent of sympathy, as people thought. I see the secret tear drop quietly from her eyelash. She said I thought her childish, and I did. She imagined I despised her. Despised her! It was unutterably sweet to feel myself at once near her and above her—to be conscious of a natural right and power to sustain her, as a husband should sustain his wife.

“I worship her perfections; but it is her faults, or at least her foibles, that bring her near to me, that nestle her to my heart, that fold her about with my love, and that for a most selfish but deeply-natural reason…”  — “Shirley” by Charlotte Bronte

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What is important for friends to know about me?

I have an overbearing sense of responsibility toward others. I enjoy honest and meaningful connection where noble values prevail.  I learn most from those who are honest about their struggles. I find myself needing solitude in order to appreciate the company I keep. I am selective when it comes to showing my playful and humorous side. I need a high level of independence in a relationship.  I am open to new experiences when I don’t feel rushed or pressured.  If I don’t have my own space to retreat to and recharge, I get fatigued and irritable.

As far as my temperament goes, it is artistic and colors the way I see the world. I seek beauty in the commonplace. I align creativity to my spiritual calling.  It’s a side of me few take time to get to know.  I seek substance over style. I shun doing things in a run-of-the-mill way. 

I am called to attend to what is invisible to most, in a culture that has little or no understanding of the calling to spiritual and creative attunement.  My faith can be summed up in the Incarnation.  God descended to earth to show us humility, grace, servanthood and serendipitous wisdom. The teaching and challenges I have received for the past years at church have been lightweight and repetitive: so I have been searching greater depth to the Christian life.

Having a low threshold for sensory stimulation, I want to develop greater coping strategies. I have an aversion to loudness, triteness, small talk and ready-made scripts.

I admire literary authors and how they delve the subterranean currents of the human heart.  I never tire exploring the forgotten world of classic literature. I am skeptical when it comes to convention, the media and consumerism. Writing (as well as Classic Literature) is intimately connected to my spiritual walk. Since my youth, it has been a way of exploring my faith and personal growth. I admire how authors view life through an inner lens. I enjoy reading classic literature over contemporary appreciating how authors infuse feeling into words, creating word pictures through the five senses.

To the artist, each entry is a love letter that provides a sacred space for contemplation. It is twofold: what you plan to send and what no one but yourself will ever read. ~ vincenzo ©

Written expression has an indefinable mystery impossible to simulate in verbal communication. It would be unfortunate after meeting someone through written correspondence to switch exclusively to verbal communication thereafter. Verbal exchanges tend to be strained and a lot more guarded. ~ vincenzo ©

Sometimes I involuntarily enter a state when childhood memories flash mutely onto the screen of my mind. I’m referring to the daydream variety. They usually pertain to common childhood scenes (sometimes even dreary), yet immersed in euphoric/sublime feelings. Sometimes I seek in vain to decipher the subtext of these powerful yet elusive flashes. Why they exist. How I can tap into their mystery.

This imaginative/ blissful realm is intimately connected to my artistic expression, because it ultimately involves the cultivation of self understanding.  As Casper David Friedrich says, “The painter should paint not only what he has in front of him, but also what he sees inside himself. If he sees nothing within, then he should stop painting what is in front of him.”

My favorite medium is mural painting where I combine the muted beauty of photo realism with the decorative boldness of zentangle.  My writing and my faith are also intimately connected to my artistic expression, but I will leave this topic for another time.*

~ vincenzo ©

This post has been revised. What I uploaded was taken from part of an email I wrote July 18, 2014 to a new cyber-friend in Panama.

“Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.”
― Émile Zola

When you place a compass in your car; you will discover the car has its own magnetic field. It’s not that the compass is not working, it’s just the instrument is being intercepted.

It’s the same way when it comes to accessing creativity. You are constantly having to work against the vortexes of the external world: appearances, standardization, evaluation, egoism, comparison, consumerism, competition, criticism and/or narcissism. In a world quick to offer endless ready-made ideas, products and services, imagination usually falls between the cracks of obtuse, stereotyped practices and habits.

~ vincenzo ©

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