Perspective

There once existed a time.  I was young, in school, and hearing all the things around me.  One might say, I was dwelling in the dark ages… although knew not.  Teachers said it, people said it, movies said it.  Medieval times are inferior to the days of today.  The statement never set in.  The statement simply existed like an inanimate cloud lurking around me.  The mood of the comment loomed in the air, stale and lifeless.  A thing simply said, although never speaking for its self.

There was once a young guy.  The guy was a medievalist.  Yes, an honest to god medievalist.  The guy lived a clean life, likely cleaner than many people of his day.  The guy used sciences, quite liberally.  And, the guy seemed to have an answer for just about any problem existing in his day.  Although, the cold truth is this.  The guy lived in anna domina 2009.  A medieval Carolingian.

Clean air, in the days of that guy, didn’t exist.  Nature’s food, in the days of that guy, didn’t exist either.  Hunting?  Forget about it.  All the animals are dead, fish too.  Living off the land?  Impossible.  Although, everybody had everything they wanted.  Religion?  Dead too.  The blind leading the blind, and dead vultures feasting on the dead.  Atheism?  Dead.  No life, no substance, simply addicted to extremes and absolute non-existing principles.  The soul?  The flesh?  Lifeless, dependent on anything except its self.

It never ceases to amaze me.  People depict every medievalist as if dirty and unwashed, sick and unhealthy, lacking and always needy.  The people forget the power of human potential and the ceaseless ways it is proven daily.  Oops, I forgot my lipstick.  Life goes on and I was absolutely beautiful that day.  The power is out.  I light a candle and enjoy the day far more than I had before.  I didn’t have time to shower twice today.  The day was great.

As an artist, I once created a proverb… imperfection only serves to prove perfection.  Funny how that works.  My hand twitched or my line veered, yet the work turned out brilliantly.  Only perfect, even to critics.  Why?  Because there is a very serious truth existing in all times.  The earth is the standard which one will accept for her, or himself.  I imagine, the people who imagine medievalists to be dirty vagrants are… the ones who would wine if left in the woods alone, or the ones who learned from those people.  I myself?  I begin building and I start eating.  In the end, I live just as I always will… and just as human potential ceaselessly allows in every moment, and in every way.  Both good and perfect, because no other standard exists.