Comparing an experience with great art with a religious experience is old hat and perhaps inappropriate. As someone with no formal education or connection to religion, my use of the statement seems ignorant, if not outright hypocritical. I’ve never had a profound experience relating to religion or theology, any profundity I’ve felt in my life has been through art. Therefore, any religious experience I would have, could only logically be equated with an artistic experience.
We cannot be shaped by who we want to be, we can only be measured by how we accept change. Do we lack the capacity to form and shape what comes? No, we have some power, but part of that power is our ability to accept that we have no control.
It’s impossible to measure the value of our actions, there are an infinite number of outcome to an infinite number of possibilities. Or is there? Some things are most certainly impossibilities, there are moments, things and situations that could never occur no matter what series of events take place. And then, despite the number of infinites involved, there is still only one definite reality (some might argue this). The infinite alternatives are theoritical, and inherently impossible. There is a limit to our existence, and yet, our greatest struggle is accepting this as a truism.
If we have no control over the future, how can we believe to have control over the past?
The beauty of Kieslowski is inspiring the awe in the intangible. Sometimes the unknown or something beyond us can inspire a sort of feeling of belittling, like we are nothing in a world that continues to spiral out of control, as everything drifts further and further apart. Kieslowski’s use of light, colour and music… things that feel very real, but that you can never hold onto.
You can’t hold onto a kiss. It’s real, you feel it, but it’s not something you can hold in your hand like you would an apple or a book.
I wish I were a poet and could evoke that feeling through words. I think we underestimate how much like music poetry can be. Great poetry is like great music, it is just as powerful and just as elusive.
Why is there such peace in Blue? Even at it’s most angry and heart wrenching, it feels like a trance… a dream. Like the softest kiss, the softest touch. Something that is barely there, something you cannot touch, cannot hold, but is everything. What is love?