“The golden moments
in the stream of life
rush past us
and we see nothing
come to visit us,
and we only know them
when they are gone.”
The year I created The Errant Aesthete, I christened the first salon “Reflections”. It seemed apt at the time as the end of 2007 was nearing, making way for 2008. A little of what I said then:
Welcome to the errant aesthete’s first salon.
A forum if you will, but ever so much more fun than if you were slumming on another blog of diminished style and sensibility. William Wordsworth once remarked that you should “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart,” and I hope you’ll feel these salons the perfect place to do that. In lieu of paper — so passé mon cherie — I offer you the limitless outreaches of cyberspace.
With the end of the year fast approaching … what will you remember as the high and low points for the year? What will you consider gained and/or lost?
You can read the full text here. Sadly, this little forum went silent in 2008 when EA was still very small and mostly unnoticed, but this past year, the Errant Aesthete has taken flight, a small excursion to be sure, but one of significance to its creator.
I have been profoundly moved by many of the thoughts readers have posted throughout the year and I would think it an honor to have you pen your own reflections in this space. While I will be writing a reflection or two of my own in the coming days, I invite you to share in this year-end tradition with me. You can find the “Reflections” salon on the SIDEBAR to the right. It can be said in words or in art since many are more comfortable with the latter. And, of course, it can always be shielded anonymously. Something, of which, I know a bit about as evidenced in the recent purging of my own hesitant soul: “Noticed.”
While EA may be a singular odyssey, its richness and appeal, to my mind, is in the friendships and contributions of each one of you. When a comment comes in from somewhere half way across the globe or just down the street, I marvel at this experience that unites us. This wondrous little conclave of aesthetes, errant and otherwise, who fill these pages with insight and inspiration. My heartfelt thanks.
Artwork: An Hoang