So I’m still not done thinking about Vincent Van Gogh and all whom his art has helped inspire.

As a general rule, it has often seemed to me that the degree to which a modern public figure is lionized or publicized has almost nothing whatever to do with reality and, if anything, only correlates with the degree to which she or he fits conveniently into corporate media narratives.

But in the days since learning a little bit more about the tragic, but enigmatic, life of this particular, historic, artistic icon, I’ve taken pause at how much his life – both as an example of love expressed and, of course, at times as a cautionary tale – matters to the modern world.

The more it seems to me there are two opposing forces at play in so many of our social, economic, and political interactions – those that would encourage only a surface-level appearance of progress in order to maintain stagnancy and those that more deeply strive for progress in actuality – the more it feels important to recognize and to build on the work of those dedicated to the latter. As one aspect of what appears to have been both a tragic, but also a deeply misunderstood, life that seems to warrant further consideration is a reported sort of contrariness – but what may at least possibly have been a more earnest attempt to connect with others – I’ve wondered how often good intentions go misidentified.

Especially as I learn more about loving interactions – ones, in other words, that result in actual relating and understanding – I recognize these can sometimes mean confrontation. But, loving confrontation being as minimal and as private as possible, where are models of best practices to be found?

On Touchdowns

I read the other day that once an albatross reaches maturity he or she can go for years on end without returning to their home island, flying sometimes for days at a time and only ever touching down on water for short periods. And I found myself wondering, how do they do it?, and, where do they find the endurance?, before realizing my error. In watching video of the albatross’s grace, ingenuity, freedom, and joy, I realized, of course, that flying is probably the albatross’s heaven.

Returns to the island are, more likely, about duty and love for their species.

While I by no means get the impression the level of satisfaction Vincent Van Gogh experienced in his career and interactions with others could ever be described as comforting, I do like to think that, during some of the extensive periods he spent alone, given the expansiveness and vibrancy of his imagination and intuition, he might have felt like he was soaring. And while I doubt he enjoyed sparring with friends and colleagues about matters he considered important as an aspiring minister, I also like to think that these arguments were, in his mind, toward an end of truer friendship.

As I’ve spent so many moments in recent days considering this artist’s heart, and as I’ve continued to walk past a print of one of his sunniest compositions daily, I’ve felt a surge of encouragement, of a little bit of room to rest bought, and even a degree of solidarity, every time I see his lovingly rendered signature, Vincent.

For my part, I still identify with what I at first thought must be the experience of the albatross. As a person who has felt right at home at various points of my life but who feels more like a marathoner today a much farther distance into my run than I ever imagined its course would total, I find myself wondering when and where will I touch down again for a long time.

Even though for-profit and for-power media seems to be raring ahead more confidently than ever, and I still feel practically like Paul Revere sometimes, I wonder, too, whether the course of trying to address these organizations’ business models really should be my aim, or whether I should more humbly, just glide.

While I still do feel a bit like the current political climate may be likened to a sort of temporary dental cap that, eventually, may need to be removed in order to allow the remainder of the decay this industry’s business model has caused to be drilled away, I am not sure what my role ought to be beyond being willing to offer my perspective, develop my gifts, and build on relationships with gratitude.

I’m grateful today, anyway, to feel a little bit more connected to everyone who has ever pushed through adversity in order to make a heartfelt contribution, and I’m especially grateful for Vincent Van Gogh, who, during long periods of wandering, still so clearly made it his business to give the world of the precious gift he had, perhaps not because doing so was the most enjoyable part of his life (it may have been the opposite), but because doing so helped bring the world a little bit closer together.

And because that is what gifts are for.