Movement

I’ve been trying and trying to write this post for the past few weeks, but every time I begin, something changes. Now, my mom is visiting, and I’m trying to prepare myself for my trip to the countryside early tomorrow morning. I never finished my post. I’ve been trying every chance I get, but it simply doesn’t work out. So, I’ve decided to use the rest of tonight to try again and pack at 5:00 in the morning instead of now.

In a very unexpected turn of events, I introduced my girlfriend to my mom and my “extended” family. My artist project resulted in me and my cofounder being followed by an anthropologist which culminated in a recorded walk through the city — a very fun and interesting project over the past few weeks. I have five Icelandic students. I got my new, futuristic camera and began lining up photoshoots. I did my first one on Monday which went phenomenally: the camera exceeds all my expectations (as it should, costing six months’ salary). I’ve set up my new computer and upgraded my tiny camera. I began studying French. I was accepted into yet another beautiful community. My trip preparations are complete, and my girlfriend will be visiting. I worked all the while. I don’t even know what else happened.

April went by in the blink of an eye. At this moment, I’m the sickest I’ve ever been in quite a long time, but that doesn’t matter. Without any hesitation, I will say that this April was the best month of my entire life. However, I also pushed myself far too hard (hence my sickness) and never had any time to think, reflect, sleep, or write. I’m sacrificing sleep even now to write.

There’s so much to do, so much life to live. I can’t wait to come back from my trip so I can keep the momentum going. I still need to buy the printer to start my print business. The list of things to do is endless. Is it possible to find a balance? How can I live the life I want to live while also finding time to rest? I think the issue on my mind is something entirely different from my usual problems: How does someone take care of themself?

I enjoy taking pictures more than anything else in my life. Barely second to writing. But there’s a concert here, a gallery opening there, a dinner here, a meeting there, work here, business there, another meeting, another opening, a handful of events, all my groups, and suddenly I’m terribly sick and haven’t taken any pictures or written anything. I wish it were as simple as saying to choose what’s most important, but it’s all important to me.

I’ll think about this dilemma another day. My next post will be from the remote nowhere, hopefully having tackled all of life’s greatest issues. For two weeks, I’ll be staying in a beautiful Icelandic artist community, focusing on learning Icelandic, writing, and making art. No city life to tempt me into time-sacrifice.

When I return, I get the overwhelming sense that nothing will be the same — in the most positive way imaginable. I feel the dawn of a new life. The future seems bright. I wish I could write what all exactly has been going on in my life, all the adventures I’ve been on, but I haven’t even had time to write about them in my own journal.

I wrote Another some time back. I find this excerpt both relevant and a nice conclusion:

If I knew you, would I paint you? If I knew you, would I collect the fragments that you leave behind? Would you stand as a landmark in the seas yet unknown? Would you have the answers to my questions? If I knew you, perhaps I would be alone. I would rather find you beautiful. I would rather seek meaning in your soul. I would rather gather your fragments and paint your portraits than see a face I do not know.