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June 07, 2004
Joy and Sorrow
Gibran Khalil Gibran is probably best known for writing The Prophet. That book, and his others, are very moving, spiritual books.
What most people don't know about Gibran, though, is that he was also an artist. A painter. In 1997, I made the pilgrimage to Bsharri, where his museum is located. There, I saw his manuscripts, his artifacts, his tomb. But what struck me most was his art.
It was striking and beautiful and disturbed. It was obvious some of it was done by a man in love, maybe broken hearted. Or, just possibly, I was trying to read something into it. One particular art work resonated deeply with me.
The painting is called "Joy and Sorrow". It features two people, a man and a woman, sitting on a rock, a boulder. The sky is a mix of blue clarity and grey cloudiness. The earth is made of the darker tones of blues, blacks and browns. The two are possibly on a beach.
The woman sits on the right of the rock. She faces us, comfortable on a reddish blanket. She leans on the man, her right shoulder on his, her red hair almost touching his head. She is mostly white with some grey in the shadows. She is smiling, happy as can be.
The man sits on the left side of the image, looking crowded onto his sliver of rock. His left shoulder faces us, his face looks down with a sad expression. The dark brown hair is the most color this man has seen, he is more grey than white. More sad than happy.
The two of them are bound together. Tied at the wrist. Joy and Sorrow, Sorrow and Joy. Inseparable. That hit me like a ton of bricks.
Today, I look at that painting every now and then. It mirrors how I feel often. Chained to the red headed "Joy", waiting for my stint as "Sorrow" to be over. Those bonds will never break, but I keep hoping that joy will find its way to the other side of the rock.
But does that mean sorrow will have to move over, as well?
Posted by Samer at June 7, 2004 12:01 AM
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