THE PAINTER THAT NEVER PAINTS: philosophical essays

Unfortunately many times in my life, i was acting as my friend ... the painter ... that painter that was never painting

It was Paris ... about 4-5 years ago.

Someone introduced me a lady, which was a painter ... a very smart lady ... a genius i could say and it was a pleasure to spent time with her.

We became friends.

We started to go out everyday to the amazing coffees shops from the central area ... the ones close to the Seine and we were talking for hours.

She was telling me about her next paintings and was describing me in tiny details all the elements of the scenes.

Had an amazing way of talking ... but also knew a lot about

art.

In few weeks ... me ... a guy that did not knew anything about art, started to understand what is the whole meaning of art in our lives.

Soon i understand that she is not painting anymore, cause, for the moment, she does not have the necessary money for painting materials .... and right away i give her an amount that she could start again.

I also promise her to not worry, cause i will give as much as she needs to continue her work.

Few days later, i dare to ask her if she started to work on the paintings that she was telling me about ... and suddenly she became very annoyed.

Not understanding what is really going on ... being a polite person ... i succeed to change the subject and we continued in a nice way our conversation while drinking the amazing parisian coffee, but few days later i ask her again the same question.

Suddenly she changed her face and became so angry that i thought for a second that she wants to ... kill me.

I could not understand what was wrong.

I was asking a painter if she was started to paint ... cause now she had the money for the materials.

Again i succeed to avoid the useless conflict with her, but going to her apartment, which was small like any parisian apartment ... i see no painting materials.

In the end she tells me that the materials will come in few more days, cause it was a delay to her order, but also asks if i can give her some extra money, for another order also.

I smile ... cause in Paris you find painting materials in the city center and she could buy them right away ... but i give her the money she asked for.

Before leaving the apartment, in the last second ... i see drugs on the small table from the entrance.

I smile again ... and understood she used the money to buy drugs instead of materials.

I saw at her house about 15 paintings and indeed she was a great painter, but she was the painter that was actually never painted.

I leave ... and i get mad.

It was all a trap.

I was fooled like a 5 years old kid by this lady and actually i was helping her to take drugs ... without realizing not even for a second what i am doing.

She called me later on ... 100 times, but never answer her back.

Even told me that she will go to the Police to make a complain against me ... but could not clearly understand why.

One year later, i accidentally meet her near the Opera ... and she was pretending that she did not knew my name anymore.

I smile ... we exchange 2-3 words and i leave.

But one day, 2 years later ... i was meditating again over the subject for about 2 weeks.

Something was unclear for me ... and did not knew what and why.

I judged her too much ... but maybe i was also the painter that never paints ... many, many, many times in my life.

My parents supported me to study at the University of Polytechnics ... but i was not going to courses and instead i

was losing my time in the coffee shops all day long.

I was the student that never went to classes ... and i was doing same as the painter that was never painting.

I complete University, i open a company and i had so many clients that sometimes i took money from my clients, spent them ... and forget to deliver the promised services to the clients.

It was such a chaos at that time, that it was a total mess with the orders ... so ... i was doing what??!

I was the businessman that promised to deliver some services that were never delivered.

I was judging the painter ... but i was worst as her.

The list with my silly mistakes from life ... was huge.

I remember i read hundreds of books of personal growth ... and one day i even read a lot about management if conflicts ... and guess what i did next after i finished studying that subject?!

I laugh ... while writing to you ... cause what i did was that i had more and more useless conflicts with the people from my life.

So ... the best definition of myself could probably be the same as that silly lady ... the painter that never paints.