***
I admire the courage and strength of spirit of those who have managed to confront, head-on, all the forces that propel death, suffering, desolation, hopelessness, and boredom. I admire those who have remained standing, preserving their dignity throughout what is, without question, the darkest period of our lives. We have lost lives, we have lost our health, we have lost projects, we have lost relationships, we have lost spontaneity. In general, we keep moving forward while simultaneously numbing ourselves: with politics and activism, with the validation of social media, with chemical substances, with fabricated projects, with the disposable consumption of art and/or spirituality, with houseplants and pets, with the false cheerfulness of the "new normal," or with the distant hope that, one day, the best part of life will return. Through the pain I myself experience, I have come to cultivate feelings of compassion for those who breathe the same air I breathe—for those who, like me, are still able to perceive, though "through a glass, darkly," the sorrowful night of human existence. The experiential conviction that there are no secure foundations upon which we can ultimately build our lives gives rise to a pain that, not infrequently, conceals the profound spiritual pedagogy inherent in the recognition of impermanence. The symptoms become unmistakable whenever we find ourselves clinging, with a measure of desperation, to vestiges of life and to whatever stimuli seem capable of rekindling the forces of vitality, meaning, and purpose.
***
ZURBARÁN, Francisco de
St Francis at Prayer
1650-55
Oil on canvas, 158 x 101 cm
Private collection
