The moon is blue
I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.
It's hard to believe a person willing to die over a cartoon has really understood the value he should put on his life. They are things to be cherished, our lives, because anything else we think is coming to us is something we are gambling on. All we are sure of is right here, right now. Sometimes you have to gather it in, the strands, the trailing ends, close to yourself, whatever you think your self is, and realise what you are risking if you risk it.
But isn't risking parts of your life risking it all? If you change parts that change the whole, have you not given your life away just the same? Well no, you're still breathing. I've always thought slavery was preferable to death because you can hope for an end to slavery. Perhaps this is because I have always been far more prone to vanity than to pride.
What is the difference? Pride is conceit about oneself as a being and vanity conceit about one's accomplishments and accoutrements, if I can call them that. Obviously, they overlap. You can exemplify the difference, as I see it, by considering that some are proud that they speak English but I am vain about my writing. It's a fine line sometimes though. Writing well is a natural thing, not wholly an accomplishment. If I were vainer still, I would doubtless be a better writer. But possibly to no better end because I would simply be more the peacock, singing ever more prettily but with no more involving or interesting melody.
It is interesting that vanity is also uselessness. Although vanity is not entirely useless. For someone like me, who is shy of projecting themselves into the world, the need to be admired can provide a route to touching others and being touched by them -- something I could not live without.
A vanitas is also a painting that serves as a memento mori, a reminder that life is ultimately vain. Ultimately useless! It's a sobering thought but many do not draw the right conclusion from it, which is that it is pointless to spend it in pursuit of purpose, when its purpose is no more than to be here, be now.
Should it not humble us then? Should it not make us feel small? It's a curious thing but I don't believe so. How can we think that? Yes, the world is much bigger than us but we are too small for the world to be our concern; time continues without us but we are too shortlived to worry about the length of all things. Our lives are as big as we are, no bigger, no smaller. We are not small because the universe is big; it is big because we are small. Only pride, excessive and unwarranted, leads us to believe it can be any other way.
Don’t tell me the moon is blue
(Now you’ve let me down)
Because the night is over
Now the pain’s in the dust
And you can’t find your blue moon
Now it’s over
ooooh Tonight it’s over