A series of essays....
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| SALVADOR DALI: "DISINTEGRATION OF PERSISTENCE OF MEMORY" THE ARTIST DESCRIBES HIS THEME AS A KIND OF 'NUCLEAR MYSTICISM' |
....as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
It was his way of washing a potential problem out of his hair. It was his way of dealing with misunderstanding and stress even though he had, certainly, assisted in creating large portions of both. To admit this fact would go against every fiber of his being. In his mind, the problem was created by others and he had just been caught in the middle, that’s all. It was his way of saying, “This is my coping mechanism. It will have to suffice.”
To say that he was managerial material would be a stretch because, in order to be able to manage others, you should be able to manage your own life and deal with what life throws at you. Yes, juggling numerous balls at one time is a part of the game. What I failed to recognize was, as difficult as life had become for the rest of us, he could not handle one more ball.
He was raised, loved, nourished, and protected to the best of my ability. After unexpectedly taking on the role of a single parent, I decided I should not hoist all of the blame onto my own shoulders. That would be a fool’s journey because it’s understood that outside factors and influences affect our lives in many different ways. I know only too well how that game is played; how guilt, frustration, love, and fear enter the picture via the passing of a spouse when children are so young and vulnerable. As they mature, life can become skewed for them and with the addition of negative peer pressure, bullying, and the misunderstanding of their purpose in life, this concoction can be as lethal as a cyanide-laced cocktail.
Does any of this really matter now?
Instantly, life becomes distorted; a living nightmare as surreal as a Dali painting with time slowly melting away as the world disintegrates around us. The screams of our children pierce our ears and chip away at our souls until all we have left is the persistence of memory: haunting our days and strangling our nights with its slippery tentacles of pain, sorrow, and regret.
There is a horrible mystique regarding mental health disorders that brings to mind Stephen King novels and towering, brick psychiatric hospitals. We have our own idea of what mental illness is and, unless we educate ourselves, and all forms of mental health disorders are discussed openly, situations can become turbid as the days, weeks, months, and years pass by. I never intentionally ignored the truth; it was always conveniently tucked away within the deep recesses of my mind. Having to tap into it frightened me as much as the truth itself!
As with every generation, I had all of the answers as a teen: I would learn by the examples around me and decide early on that what happened back then would have to change as I conducted my life in the future and, with any luck, never be repeated again. What transpired long ago rearranged my sense of perspective in such a way that all I had to do was incorporate the opposite actions of the adults in my life regarding how we were raised and infuse a healthier, more sustainable lifestyle for my own children to thrive on, one day. The best was yet to come, or so I believed.
Life has its way of throwing out curve balls.
It was his way of saying what silly fools we humans are. Oh, how we set ourselves up for failure. When we believe we have failed, a certain 'door of insensibility' creaks open, ever so slightly, but just enough to offer an escape route into oblivion.
Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes
All rights reserved
