Friends, my apologies for not writing lately. Ray, this one's for you!
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Facing mortality changes everything. It conjures up all kinds of existential questions, it reminds us of the very finite nature of our beings. It devastates the dreamer.
Suddenly, infinity seems of lesser importance than the present moment. Pursuing Bach's understanding of Time briefly brings the heavens to our touch, but really how tangible is it. And what good is a dreamer in the clouds.
Suddenly, the weak rise to courage. Food tastes better, friends seem sweeter. The urgency of life forces one to see, understand, and forgive. There is no time to hold enemies and no time to withold love. There is no time for meaninglessness. It makes out of the dreamer, an activist.
My mother has cancer. And suddenly, she is my mother again.
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Anecdote
Friends that know me well will most likely contest that I can often be, a) oblivious, and b) disoriented, which is all a result of c) I live in my own world. Sometimes this is why I am not the best driver. Many of the time, as I walk I'm cheerfully humming a tune or daydreaming. Not to mention that, for some odd reason, I don't have the best peripheral vision, which makes walking into things and people a not-so-uncommon occurance. My being graceful is a huge misconception.
Take for example the other day. Having just come from practising, meaning still high-strung with the music in my head, I decided to quickly check email at the school's internet kiosks. While darting my way past a couple of girls chatting, the one girl with a viola case strapped to her back turned, hit me with her viola case, and I flew into the computer desk and onto the floor. I heard a series of gasps from other students, while the violist bent down to help me up, apologizing. I hardly realized what had winded me, and I certainly didn't know viola cases were so rock-hard.
So, friends that know me well also know that I like to carry big bags. Very large luggage bags. Which can do some serious damage of their own, especially if carried by one who is, a) oblivious, and b) disoriented, because c) she lives in her own world.
____________________________________________________________
Facing mortality changes everything. It conjures up all kinds of existential questions, it reminds us of the very finite nature of our beings. It devastates the dreamer.
Suddenly, infinity seems of lesser importance than the present moment. Pursuing Bach's understanding of Time briefly brings the heavens to our touch, but really how tangible is it. And what good is a dreamer in the clouds.
Suddenly, the weak rise to courage. Food tastes better, friends seem sweeter. The urgency of life forces one to see, understand, and forgive. There is no time to hold enemies and no time to withold love. There is no time for meaninglessness. It makes out of the dreamer, an activist.
My mother has cancer. And suddenly, she is my mother again.
____________________________________________________________
Anecdote
Friends that know me well will most likely contest that I can often be, a) oblivious, and b) disoriented, which is all a result of c) I live in my own world. Sometimes this is why I am not the best driver. Many of the time, as I walk I'm cheerfully humming a tune or daydreaming. Not to mention that, for some odd reason, I don't have the best peripheral vision, which makes walking into things and people a not-so-uncommon occurance. My being graceful is a huge misconception.
Take for example the other day. Having just come from practising, meaning still high-strung with the music in my head, I decided to quickly check email at the school's internet kiosks. While darting my way past a couple of girls chatting, the one girl with a viola case strapped to her back turned, hit me with her viola case, and I flew into the computer desk and onto the floor. I heard a series of gasps from other students, while the violist bent down to help me up, apologizing. I hardly realized what had winded me, and I certainly didn't know viola cases were so rock-hard.
So, friends that know me well also know that I like to carry big bags. Very large luggage bags. Which can do some serious damage of their own, especially if carried by one who is, a) oblivious, and b) disoriented, because c) she lives in her own world.
posted by Rebecca at
10:15 PM
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