Take things out of context, my friend. Look at an ugly person and stare at their beautiful eyes. Notice the garbage laden streets but smell the fresh pizza laying in one of the bins. Remember that ex-boyfriend you hate? Only think about the first night you spent with him. While you’re thinking, ignore the noise seeping through your apartment walls. Put earphones in and silence the world. You wouldn’t even know it’s loud.
Doesn’t this make life beautiful? Does highlighting things out of context make life more beautiful?
I’ve been wondering this as I experienced diverse art in the past week. I went to Amsterdam and saw Rembrandt’s merchant piece; it’s one of his most powerful paintings. He asked the cloth sellers to look up as if they were listening to someone speak. I stood in front of the painting for 3 minutes. I was wondering what type of conversation they would have if I was in the room. Rembrandt placed the subjects into a new context and suddenly, they were something to be recorded.
On Friday, I got seats at the circus, just 4 rows from the stage. A little woman kept coming on and engaging the crowd. She was sweet and beautiful and everyone appreciated her being there. Everyone wanted the amusement she brought. If I saw her out of context, maybe on the streets or on TikTok, I might have felt a pang of pity for her differences. Not at the circus though. At the circus, she was better than me. I was the one to be pitied for craving her entertainment that night.
At a jazz concert the night after, I was flitting between focus and daydreams. I’d often be brought back to the moment when I heard a loud sound. Sometimes, it was a sound that didn’t quite fit the flow. Those sounds that reeled me back in became my impressions of the concert. I didn’t focus on the long sets nonstop, I focused on 30 seconds here and 30 seconds a little later. But did those 30 second moments represent the entire thing? Those moments became my context to appreciate the men playing.
This week, I wrote many words. I was trying to record a bunch of stories that meant something to me. One of the stories I kept circling back to was about a man in Alaska. He was my couchsurfing host for the weekend there. We went out dancing to celebrate him buying 19 planes. While out and a little tipsy, a lotta happy, we started talking about physical expressions of love. He wanted a hug. I was young back then, 21 years old. I told him we could hug my entire stay, that every night we’d spend cuddling. The first night went well and I could have frozen the story there. What’s more touching than 2 strangers sharing comfort?
It didn’t stop there, though. He kept wanting to kiss me. He got salty when I reminded him but we’re just hugging, right. I roll my eyes at myself too, but the first night was true. In the context of those hours, it was pure, it was a sharing of love. I wanted to stop my story there. Who wrote the rules and context and what makes up the whole truth?
There are so many ways to see the world. In each of these moments this week, I kept circling back to the same thoughts. Context tells us how to feel. Shifting my focus paints the everyday with a different hue. If I could choose to be selective with the stories I feed myself, will I find even more beauty in existence? Artists, musicians and performers do it; what is life if I do it too?
Take things out of context, my friend.
I love this!! To me you've just described the precise sacredness of storytelling. It's all made up! The meaning of everything. And as humans we've been given permission to adjust context in a way that makes celebration erupt from our perception and life the kind of festival that you keep sharing in your tales. I think you just revealed your secret for all of us who have been wishing we could live with your sense of adventure.