Ramses I I apparently did not buy into this assertion as ancient Egypt seems awash in images, sculptures, cartouches, etc., of that particular Pharaoh. Apparently didn’t want folks to forget how great he was. It seems to be an affectation common among dictators and other authoritarian figures, Hitler, Stalin, and others of that stripe who want to keep their likeness in front of people who would most likely wish to avoid it. This megalomania flys in the face of the reality of those moments we hold most dear.
For me anyhow, recalled perfect moments are painfully fleeting, crystal memories, of a minute or two, no longer, that flash clearly and then recede again. Which brings us, naturally, to Leonardo da Vinci and Lisa del Giocondo, reputed to be the lady of The Mona Lisa. The exact identity of the lady remains the subject of some debate. However, what is generally agreed is that Leonardo never finished the painting. Rather he carried it with him all his life, tweaking a bit here, shifting a bit there. You see da Vinci was blessed? cursed? with the ability to capture on canvas that moment of perfection that he carried in his soul. Well, close to it anyhow. He was an artistic genius enough to capture it - almost. But was driven enough to never be satisfied. Maybe a touch more shadow? Are the flesh tones too pink? And then the smile. Damn the smile anyway! Sigh. Genius is a cruel mistress.
I, having sidestepped genius, have instead learned, I hope, to cherish those moments of perfection when they choose to present themselves, close my eyes and enjoy them for as long as they choose to hang around, and then, when the scene passes or the song ends, acknowledge their transient nature, and allow them to pass back into bittersweet memory until such time as they choose to surface once again. Normal is still disconcerting, but less painful than genius.
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