Notes on Living
I read something this week that has been echoing inside me ever since. It was written long ago—centuries ago, even—and yet it felt uncannily present, as if the author had been watching us today, scrolling, speaking, pretending, striving, and then quietly setting it all against a golden canvas. The essay spoke about people not as isolated figures, but as presences who always stand against a background, like those old Italian paintings where saints rise up in front of pure gold. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed true: no one ever stands alone. There is always something humming behind us: silence, memory, grief, wonder, longing, God. And yet, don’t we so often forget this? Don’t we treat each other as though we are headlines and gestures and nothing more? One line that stayed with me: You must become a beginner . At first, it sounded strange, almost like a command meant for someone much younger than me. But then I realised: isn’t that what life demands of us...
