Harmony is an artistic compatibility akin to sympathy, friendship and like-mindedness. It it seldom a pursuit; instead it is a simultaneous narrative invoking subtle congruity. Last evening – leisurely sitting on the balcony while relishing the enchantment of the Northern Hemisphere’s approaching maximum declination to the sun on the Summer Solstice –  I heard someone call out, “Hello! Hello!” Recovering from my trifling endeavours or rampant thoughtfulness, I listened, then heard it again, “Hello! Hello!” Looking about – both up, down and along – I focused on a woman on a nearby parallel balcony.  I waved in reply.  She said, “I’ve just moved here.” to which I responded, “Come visit us next door!”  “Now?”, she asked.  “Yes, now.  Come ahead!”  At which I then lifted myself and moved towards the screen door into the drawing room as evidence of my invitation.

I overlooked adding that the woman had also detailed that she was with a gentleman friend (whom I presumed was inside the apartment).  I welcomed them both.  Within minutes the two arrived at our front door where we greeted them accordingly, sharing our names amidst the usual swagger.

What followed was a lively discussion, at times boisterous. Initially my partner chatted with the woman while I babbled with the gentleman; then the directions reversed and crossed. All in all it was a fruitful alliance and a pleasing start with a new resident and her gentleman friend. Naturally there were features of commonality among us all. What however stood out to me was the fully unanticipated acquaintance of the woman with my erstwhile Caribbean connections from prep school days; and, the gentleman’s artistic occupation.  Both elements were exceedingly enlivening.  Already I have for example made plans to look over some of the artistic creations which promise to span water colours, oil paintings, engravings and prints. As you might expect there followed considerable discussion of the local artistic community. Oh, and the gentleman is writing a children’s book for publication.

When I awoke this morning after that inordinately congruous evening, I found myself dipping in and out of the fortuitous conviviality. Living as we do in a small apartment building of 42 units there is forever an ingredient of togetherness. By contrast my ventures this morning on my tricycle about the neighbourhood and later in my car into the city were marked by competing features characteristic of such idle habits – that is, a moderate imbalance. The gregarious nature of last evening’s confab was distinctly lacking. Things didn’t evolve as smoothly as I would have preferred although the disparity was predictable and of no immediate consequence.

Perfection – or so I have reasoned – is to be found not in fabrication but in interpretation. This does not taint what is otherwise serendipitous; but it augments one’s perception of all else. As always there is a need for balance. Certainly there will be favourable features arising from almost any of the limitless possibilities. Distilling one’s capacity with one’s aspirations is however a necessity. Getting the proper fit is a matter of due application. Never is the debate concluded summarily. It all requires water and sunshine to succeed to the towering strength of success.

In the result I have succumbed to the ambivalence and impartiality of balance. It is a conclusive venture whatever the intent. Colouring the outcome and digesting its catalogue are our personal exploits. As fond as we may be of particular embellishments, the brilliance of our lives depends more on us than on them. The embroidery and ornamentation of our lives – though faced with swaying balance – is ultimately within our sole jurisdiction. We have planned neither our birth nor our death; everything else is up to us, using the talents we’ve been given, adjusting the nature of what surrounds us, perceiving the whole as suitably as we can.