Are coincidences independent of us? Unless we create the world they must be, in actual fact. However, there appears an infinity of material in this world of ours, of which we perceive and remember a fraction. With so much stuff the potential for coincidences is high, but our awareness of them is limited; and depends upon our personalities. It is up to us to recognise a coincidence - we create our own world of happy accidents. And because we are our own artists these coincidences have strong effects; we endow them with meaning and excitement. They seem strange and wonderful, when they’re really rather common. Thus we make of an old bucket Queen Mab’s commode.
A few weeks ago I read of Carus’ ideas on the integration of knowledge within the individual (and the greater that absorpton and transformation the greater the artist and thinker?).
Now a couple of stops down the railway line I pick up Pasternak…
But genuine art, to my understanding, is far from having such pretensions. How can it set out to give orders or issue instructions when it has more weaknesses and transgressions to its credit than virtues? It nurtures a modest desire to be the reader’s dream, the object of his longings, and is in need of his responsive imagination, not in the form of amicable condescension but as an integral element on which the artist is dependent for his formation, just as a ray of light is dependent on a reflecting surface or a refracting medium to enable it to play and sparkle. (my italics)
A coincidence? Or creation? Either way I particularly like this passage because it brings out the author’s modesty.