In "A Moveable Feast," Hemingway's memoir about his time in Paris, he writes:
"With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. when the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason....In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed. "
Sound familiar? I was going to go on and on about how depressing this weather is in the middle of March but since I'm no Hemingway, who better to put exactly into words what I feel than the great man himself. I'm on a Hemingway kick lately because I just finished reading, "The Paris Wife," which is historical fiction about his first wife and their life in 1920s Paris. My kind of book eh? It was good and gave a lot of insight into the personality of one of the most famous writers in American Literature. He wasn't exactly the kindest, warmest human being but great artists rarely are. He was a tormented soul of course but ceaselessly fascinating. And of course any book set in Paris especially between the 20s through the 40s grabs my attention. It got me thinking about human happiness. That is essentially what Hemingway was seeking through out his life and seems as if he never found it considering he shot himself after what appeared to be a very successful, productive life. What does it really take to be happy in this life? I suppose for everyone its different but its the elusive intangible that we are all searching for. Recently over several glasses of wine with my sister Anne, she said that this blog always has an air of discontent in it. I didn't realize that until I read some posts over and saw that she was right. I suppose I've always been this way- too bad I'm not as talented as Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald or any of the famous tortured artist souls. People expect discontent from them - its part of the aura and myth but for an ordinary person like me to be tormented all the time...well that's just plain pathetic. Recently, I have been suffering from unexplained migraines (3 in 6 weeks one which landed me in the emergency room) and man has it given me some much needed perspective. I have always taken my health for granted because I'm made out of hearty Lithuanian stock and have never had a serious health problem in my life. I don't count chronic migraines as that serious but for me its more than I've ever had to deal with (aside from many broken bones) and it scared me because I could get cancer or some other life threatening disease and then what? How much time would I have wasted being unhappy just because life wasn't exactly what I wanted it to be? The funny thing about perspective is that it rarely lasts for long. I have it now so lets take that shall we? I will try to focus on the inevitable arrival of spring even though it is taking its sweet ass time getting here because when it does, life will get a little easier and a lot less depressing. And then I can find something else to be pissed about. See, I told you perspective doesn't last.
"With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. when the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason....In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed. "
Sound familiar? I was going to go on and on about how depressing this weather is in the middle of March but since I'm no Hemingway, who better to put exactly into words what I feel than the great man himself. I'm on a Hemingway kick lately because I just finished reading, "The Paris Wife," which is historical fiction about his first wife and their life in 1920s Paris. My kind of book eh? It was good and gave a lot of insight into the personality of one of the most famous writers in American Literature. He wasn't exactly the kindest, warmest human being but great artists rarely are. He was a tormented soul of course but ceaselessly fascinating. And of course any book set in Paris especially between the 20s through the 40s grabs my attention. It got me thinking about human happiness. That is essentially what Hemingway was seeking through out his life and seems as if he never found it considering he shot himself after what appeared to be a very successful, productive life. What does it really take to be happy in this life? I suppose for everyone its different but its the elusive intangible that we are all searching for. Recently over several glasses of wine with my sister Anne, she said that this blog always has an air of discontent in it. I didn't realize that until I read some posts over and saw that she was right. I suppose I've always been this way- too bad I'm not as talented as Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald or any of the famous tortured artist souls. People expect discontent from them - its part of the aura and myth but for an ordinary person like me to be tormented all the time...well that's just plain pathetic. Recently, I have been suffering from unexplained migraines (3 in 6 weeks one which landed me in the emergency room) and man has it given me some much needed perspective. I have always taken my health for granted because I'm made out of hearty Lithuanian stock and have never had a serious health problem in my life. I don't count chronic migraines as that serious but for me its more than I've ever had to deal with (aside from many broken bones) and it scared me because I could get cancer or some other life threatening disease and then what? How much time would I have wasted being unhappy just because life wasn't exactly what I wanted it to be? The funny thing about perspective is that it rarely lasts for long. I have it now so lets take that shall we? I will try to focus on the inevitable arrival of spring even though it is taking its sweet ass time getting here because when it does, life will get a little easier and a lot less depressing. And then I can find something else to be pissed about. See, I told you perspective doesn't last.
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