Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter

I will try to keep spoilers at bay, while still exploring some of what "Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter" asked of me.

That Werner Herzog recommended the picture was endorsement enough.  We know his heroes - Aguirre, Fitzcaraldo, seekers and dreamers, the borderline mad or those who have slipped across the border, those for whom nature is no deterrent, no obstacle, for whom nature may not even be noticed in pursuit of the treasure.

What I wondered is whether my seemingly ordinary dreams, desires, goals, are any less fanciful than Kumiko's.  At my rather advanced age, is the thought of a book, of books, of new design collections, sheer folly or has it burrowed into me for a reason, a reason other than disappointment?   These are sobering days for reasons beyond my knowing, other than that chaos and Hunter Thompson's bad craziness seem to have grabbed the wheel.   More sobering still is the notion that what feel like benign imaginings of future achievements may be slightly or excessively mad.  Do we know when or if we've become crackpots?

As I voiced these questions after the movie ended, my son gave immediate reassurance and I trust his assessments.  This young man can pick the green cantaloupe which will ripen perfectly every time.  That makes me the guinea pig/cantaloupe of senior citizen pipe dreams, for I am willing to trust what calls to me even when I have little or no idea how to get from here to there, other than doing my share of the work.  I wish to believe that if I build it, they will come, yet there are no guarantees.  There is just the feeling, with no way of knowing whether my feeling differs from Kumiko's, no way of knowing if wanting and believing and footwork will be enough.  Still, I am not entirely confused.  I know it is too soon to give up.  Perhaps Kumiko stopped by to help me remember that.

Word of the Week - 25

Word of the Week:  REIMAGINE

Today I declare that imagination is our top and truly kick-ass superpower.  As with other endowments, it may be used for good or ill.  Today I declare it is no longer appropriate to employ imagination to  enlarge or inflate fear or worry, to use it as the magnifying glass that sharpens a focus on our suspected defects, to bend it to our will for the purpose of keeping us frail or tepid or less-than.  We, as Werner Herzog reminded in a recent interview, are able to give success our own definition and we certainly are here to save the world by whatever means possible.  This will involve stealth, humor, beauty, love and patience.

Without being vast and brilliant, saving the world, even a section no larger than a collar button, would be impossible.   Therefore, we must reimagine, redefine what we believe about ourselves and how we fit into this world that needs us at our truest.   Recently I found a quote by writer Paulo Coelho, “Don’t be intimidated by other people’s opinions. Only mediocrity is sure of itself, so take risks and do what you really want to do.” As the loudest voice of disapproval is usually the one in our own heads, that is the first one to ignore.  Sing louder than it shouts.  Make faces and do a silly dance.  Righteous mediocrity can't stand any of that.  And, above all else, throw your arms around every lumpy, battle-scarred, making-it-up-as-you-go-along inch of your brilliant being and squeeze until you can hardly breathe.  Don't let go.  I'm not saying this will be easy.  It may seem impossible, but, as Coelho also said, "Impossible is just an opinion."

In our reimagining, let's imagine this:  that most of what we've been told is wrong or, even more likely, was lies intended to keep us quiet, submissive, to stop us from being troublemakers and siphon our unmistakable coolness out of the tank, leaving us stuck and dispirited.

Empowering words from Lisa Congdon.

I realized this week, in visiting some top-drawer work from artist Lisa Congdon and writer Maria Popova on women who have changed the way we see the world, that it is, at this late date, unlikely that I will be (a) famous or (b) brilliant on the BIG screen.  That does not mean I am not or cannot be brilliant.  The stars come in all sizes.  Brilliant, and successful, by my definition.  Some days all that requires is being alive, reasonably awake and aware that none of us is ordinary, unless we choose to be.  Imagine something brighter, something better, something that makes your heart happy, not lurching along with grim foreboding.  No one has ever known what will come tomorrow.  I imagine it, and we, will be magnificent.