- Stop writing altogether until I am happy with what I am saying
- Keep writing and hope the mojo comes back
I'm going with two and if you all stop reading well, at least I am still writing and this was always meant for me as a kind of therapy: which it has been. The loneliest thing about depression is that it is very hard to talk about without stigmatising yourself as a bit loopy. Then, when you are a bit lata anyway, it's off to the funny farm or anywhere one doesn't frighten the horses.
For those of you who don't know this one I enclose in total. It is just too good not to:
Beatrice Campbell aka Mrs Patrick Campbell
"Does it really matter what these affectionate people do — so long as they don’t do it in the streets and frighten the horses!" -Reply to a young actress who asserted that an older actor in a production showed too much affection for the leading man
I have always felt this to be a very sensible attitude to take to life, the rest of us can take care of ourselves. so, a little lata, a lot depressed. High hopes of new, rather strong anti deps. Apart from anything else had a great sleep two nights ago and most demons can be shrunk by "sore nature's bath", sleep "that ravels up the knitted sleeve of care". Was Shakespeare the man or what? Who thinks of sleep a something that untangles our 'knitted' days and yet when you hear it it makes instant and perfect sense. Think we should have a picture or two now:
You may very well ask where this is going - I don't know. All of these memories and things constantly remind me how hugely lucky I was to grow up where I did, when I did and how I did. Talking about days out yesterday. They weren't. They were lessons, each place, each event was my curriculum and my pass mark was how rounded a human being I became. Hope I passed.
There were glitches in this process - before you cast me as some adorable curly haired little savant - my child's mind sometimes was too literal for some of the things we went to see or do. Most of you that know me or have had the woe of being taught by me will have heard this story. At least five Year Seven were subjected to in the British Museum, in what now called the Parthenon marbles. No not that literal - I didn't think were glass balls with spirals in. I had a passion for ancient Greece and one of my most beloved books was called, "Theseus: A Boy of Athens", written in learned didactic style to inform the young of the great history that ties the west together. I loved it - I walked the streets of Athens with the boy, was thrilled when he received his pedagoue so that his learning could begin, beside myself as they they walked through the Agora Looking up to Acropolis and upon it, high over Athens the white marble of the Parthenon with. in the foreground, the Great Golden statue of Pallas Athena with her face of ivory and her gown and breastplate of the purest finest gold.
I walked with Theseus and looked closely at the Caryatids shouldering the great roof and could not wait to see if it was true that each one looked different as they were all based on different models on the islands were made, In my book it said they looked like an army of friends, gazing calmly before them at the sparkling sea where any new ship arriving would see Athena's spear and know she sheltered and protected the Athenians.
Now my parents knew I was keen, could recite all the gods of Olympus and what their properties were so they thought they were giving the most special trip - a two day stop in Athens on our way back to Calcutta. I was beside myself - I read my dear Theseus until he and seemed entwined through time and, as we arrived late at night we saw the picture above, or something very like it. The great building towering over the city. I peered out of the cab window:"Mum,MUM! Where's Athena's statue?" Should have been warned at that point but they were hot and only wanted a G&T and meal somewhere
The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn, dressed, washed and ready to go by seven. My parents had bought me my first watch in Zurich two days before so I was very aware of the time. Luckily for me they too were up early - perhaps a ten year old muttering as she tried to dress in the dark was not conducive to sleep. By eight we were again in a taxi heading for the Acropolis. The taxi driver offered to walk round with us - he loved the site and would be glad to talk about it. If you don't know Greece you might he on for a con. He wasn't, he loved his country and its history and was glad to share that knowledge, I ran up the many, deep and rutted marble steps waiting to see ...
Something like this on the right. She comes form Vienna this Athena - I have never seen her.
That bright morning I arrived at the foot of the Parthenon and realised I was looking at a ruin. It was many years ago, buildings crumble but everyone of these carvings, I had seen photos of the caryatids in books - but they weren't there, Great marbles of battle that had Theseus pouring over them as he learnt the value of heroism in battle. Where were they? I sat on the bottom step and the tears rolled down my face. My parents, red faced from trying to keep up with me and the taxi driver all looked shocked. "Where are they all? Where's Athena? The Caryatids, the friezez. It looks like," and I paused, the unthinkable, " someone has just torn them away."
Spiro, our driver and guide, shrugged and blew his nose loudly. He looked at my parents, "She cries as the children of Greece do, for the loss of our heritage." Very gently it was explained to me that a English antiquarian(rapist of cultures more like) had arrived and thought the marbesl would look jolly good in the new British Museum. After all Johnny Foreigner couldn't understand their importance culturally to the whole world. It was his duty as an Englishman to save what he could. So he hired Turkish workers, no greek would help him destroy their heritage. And the marbles were literally torn from their places. I've heard it said that more was lost in mission to save that millenia had failed to destroy.
I still cry at the British Museum, to see them there, locked in their cold marble hall, placed on walls not high above pillars against the Aegean sky. I still cry at the Parthenon although the Greek has been trying to recreate some of the most important pieces to show what was the glory of the ancient world. And, in the exhibition centre at the Acropolis there are indeed many Caryatids with the faces of friends and eyes made to look across an ancient wine dark sea.
I do not forgive Elgin - anyone that has tried to defend him has used that trite and insulting argument that we take better care of them. Sorry if you are young and reading this -BULLSHIT! Go to the 'Parthenon' room at the BM - at least we no longer call them Elgin's marbles - and see trapped in this cold country that never loved their gods or were the children of their children. i believe art must be loved or it dies - they are dying. If reach you with this tonight - think and then ask the question, why can't we give them back?
Oh, the Athena I sought was taken in one of the many raids on the city at the end of the Hellenistic age - but there is one more, I have only ever seen her picture but she at least still lives in Athens, albeit at a museum.
isn't she magnificent? One day soon she will be closer to real home and the Athenians will once again have their Goddess watch over them.
For those of you who don't know this one I enclose in total. It is just too good not to:
Beatrice Campbell aka Mrs Patrick Campbell
"Does it really matter what these affectionate people do — so long as they don’t do it in the streets and frighten the horses!" -Reply to a young actress who asserted that an older actor in a production showed too much affection for the leading man
I have always felt this to be a very sensible attitude to take to life, the rest of us can take care of ourselves. so, a little lata, a lot depressed. High hopes of new, rather strong anti deps. Apart from anything else had a great sleep two nights ago and most demons can be shrunk by "sore nature's bath", sleep "that ravels up the knitted sleeve of care". Was Shakespeare the man or what? Who thinks of sleep a something that untangles our 'knitted' days and yet when you hear it it makes instant and perfect sense. Think we should have a picture or two now:You may very well ask where this is going - I don't know. All of these memories and things constantly remind me how hugely lucky I was to grow up where I did, when I did and how I did. Talking about days out yesterday. They weren't. They were lessons, each place, each event was my curriculum and my pass mark was how rounded a human being I became. Hope I passed.
There were glitches in this process - before you cast me as some adorable curly haired little savant - my child's mind sometimes was too literal for some of the things we went to see or do. Most of you that know me or have had the woe of being taught by me will have heard this story. At least five Year Seven were subjected to in the British Museum, in what now called the Parthenon marbles. No not that literal - I didn't think were glass balls with spirals in. I had a passion for ancient Greece and one of my most beloved books was called, "Theseus: A Boy of Athens", written in learned didactic style to inform the young of the great history that ties the west together. I loved it - I walked the streets of Athens with the boy, was thrilled when he received his pedagoue so that his learning could begin, beside myself as they they walked through the Agora Looking up to Acropolis and upon it, high over Athens the white marble of the Parthenon with. in the foreground, the Great Golden statue of Pallas Athena with her face of ivory and her gown and breastplate of the purest finest gold.
I walked with Theseus and looked closely at the Caryatids shouldering the great roof and could not wait to see if it was true that each one looked different as they were all based on different models on the islands were made, In my book it said they looked like an army of friends, gazing calmly before them at the sparkling sea where any new ship arriving would see Athena's spear and know she sheltered and protected the Athenians.
Now my parents knew I was keen, could recite all the gods of Olympus and what their properties were so they thought they were giving the most special trip - a two day stop in Athens on our way back to Calcutta. I was beside myself - I read my dear Theseus until he and seemed entwined through time and, as we arrived late at night we saw the picture above, or something very like it. The great building towering over the city. I peered out of the cab window:"Mum,MUM! Where's Athena's statue?" Should have been warned at that point but they were hot and only wanted a G&T and meal somewhere
The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn, dressed, washed and ready to go by seven. My parents had bought me my first watch in Zurich two days before so I was very aware of the time. Luckily for me they too were up early - perhaps a ten year old muttering as she tried to dress in the dark was not conducive to sleep. By eight we were again in a taxi heading for the Acropolis. The taxi driver offered to walk round with us - he loved the site and would be glad to talk about it. If you don't know Greece you might he on for a con. He wasn't, he loved his country and its history and was glad to share that knowledge, I ran up the many, deep and rutted marble steps waiting to see ...
That bright morning I arrived at the foot of the Parthenon and realised I was looking at a ruin. It was many years ago, buildings crumble but everyone of these carvings, I had seen photos of the caryatids in books - but they weren't there, Great marbles of battle that had Theseus pouring over them as he learnt the value of heroism in battle. Where were they? I sat on the bottom step and the tears rolled down my face. My parents, red faced from trying to keep up with me and the taxi driver all looked shocked. "Where are they all? Where's Athena? The Caryatids, the friezez. It looks like," and I paused, the unthinkable, " someone has just torn them away."
Spiro, our driver and guide, shrugged and blew his nose loudly. He looked at my parents, "She cries as the children of Greece do, for the loss of our heritage." Very gently it was explained to me that a English antiquarian(rapist of cultures more like) had arrived and thought the marbesl would look jolly good in the new British Museum. After all Johnny Foreigner couldn't understand their importance culturally to the whole world. It was his duty as an Englishman to save what he could. So he hired Turkish workers, no greek would help him destroy their heritage. And the marbles were literally torn from their places. I've heard it said that more was lost in mission to save that millenia had failed to destroy.
I still cry at the British Museum, to see them there, locked in their cold marble hall, placed on walls not high above pillars against the Aegean sky. I still cry at the Parthenon although the Greek has been trying to recreate some of the most important pieces to show what was the glory of the ancient world. And, in the exhibition centre at the Acropolis there are indeed many Caryatids with the faces of friends and eyes made to look across an ancient wine dark sea.
I do not forgive Elgin - anyone that has tried to defend him has used that trite and insulting argument that we take better care of them. Sorry if you are young and reading this -BULLSHIT! Go to the 'Parthenon' room at the BM - at least we no longer call them Elgin's marbles - and see trapped in this cold country that never loved their gods or were the children of their children. i believe art must be loved or it dies - they are dying. If reach you with this tonight - think and then ask the question, why can't we give them back?
Oh, the Athena I sought was taken in one of the many raids on the city at the end of the Hellenistic age - but there is one more, I have only ever seen her picture but she at least still lives in Athens, albeit at a museum.
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