Oh! there, there! In fact, the problem with this question is that it is always asked in the singular. We are made up of several compartments which sometimes, between them, are not always unanimous. Thus, an answer to this question may very well, by transposing it into a different context, be the opposite. It’s better to ask yourself, “Who are we?” This plural, although singular, seems more accurate to me.
I deeply believe that we are free, but not according to the idea that we have of it. We often confuse freedom with freedom from all constraints, which is basically a decoy. I believe that we are free in the way of dealing with these constraints, the most fundamental of which is that of life itself. We are forced to sail on a boat that we know is doomed to sink, but free in the way we choose to cruise.
I would say permission. We were five children at home and there were no limits from my parents on playing or messing around. This non-censorship is undoubtedly what allowed me, on stage, not to have to fight to embody madness. It is a great freedom to be able to express this madness. It may even be the best antidote for not sinking into it.
Impatience. Everything is always too long. I envy those who are patient for the calming this quality seems to bring. My daily prayer: God, give me patience…but be quick! !
The countryside, nature. It is, I believe, the only environment that calms and reconciles me. For me, creating requires this withdrawal. I write mainly about the human and for that, I have to distance myself from it. If you want to paint a mountain, you have to get away from it.
In fact, it is a good mobilizer. To complete a project, it allows you to stay focused, to stay on course. The ego is necessary. It takes a whole ego to go on stage and believe that what you say has the merit of being heard by an entire room. The ego, therefore, is a motor. The challenge is to remind him that in the house he is not the owner, but the guest. Good luck !
Mastery of a musical instrument. All the acuity that my ears have to appreciate the music, my fingers are totally deprived of it to reproduce it. As much as I love music and I need it, the more I become one-armed in front of the object. My grief: Sitting in front of a piano and expressing in sound what I cannot put into words. It will be for another lifetime.
Sometimes I tell someone in a dream about the previous dream I just had. Then, I realize while telling this dream that I am still in a dream. And there, generally, I wake up wondering, for a few seconds, if I’m not dreaming of being awake.
It would be on the side of the craftsmen. Those who have made their life mastery of a subject. Whether iron, wood, earth, leather, stone, glass. Those who, of this matter, know the qualities, the limits. Who know where she obeys, where she is refractory. I have always envied these manual, traditional trades, and especially the atmosphere of a workshop. Luthier would not be bad.
The time required to acquire knowledge. That all the years during which experience accumulates, the physical capacities that we have to apply it follow, for their part, an inverse curve. In other words, when we can, we don’t know, and when we know, we can’t anymore. Hmm… However, of all the ages I’ve had, the one I am now [58 years old] is by far my favorite; the reason being that the two curves seem to me at a crossroads. Knowing that one will continue its ascent and the other its descent. If I had a button to stop time, it would be now. But OK…
…keep your bill!
