9.08.2003
In praise of sunshine in the morning at the bus stop:
This is a real John Denver move, I know, but sun on your skin, a little breeze off the bay to your back -- it's practically transformative.
This is a real John Denver move, I know, but sun on your skin, a little breeze off the bay to your back -- it's practically transformative.
9.03.2003
Do you feel old? As I get my head out of my ass, I realize aging has little to do with progress or decay or with life passing me by. It's not me in a vacuum with stuff happening to me, it's not me on my timeline or me in my little movie starring me. When I live my life, I make my way through a story much bigger than my own. And so aging must also have something to do with what - and who - is around us.
Behind various images and concepts of aging or time there lies something constant: the collective endurance of pain. We are a sea of people, and there is pain among us. We float along, some in conversation; some ignoring one another. Some walk closely together and others could use more space than they'll ever get. Many grasp on to one another - too tightly, not tightly enough - out of love or obligation or fear or inertia. And though invisible or somehow kept in check, danger is near, waiting to resurface from time to time. Death and divorce, substances, pain and disease seem to be ruthlessly matter-of-fact and to have been undyingly patient as they reach out and tap people on the shoulder. Your turn. As the rest of us suffer alongside, everyone gets their little piece of the aftermath, a reminder that there will be more.
Even so, out here in the water there is mercy, too. I know this firsthand: there is mercy. To quote some old fool, "Love each other or perish."
RIP, J.L. - You were loved and you still are.
Behind various images and concepts of aging or time there lies something constant: the collective endurance of pain. We are a sea of people, and there is pain among us. We float along, some in conversation; some ignoring one another. Some walk closely together and others could use more space than they'll ever get. Many grasp on to one another - too tightly, not tightly enough - out of love or obligation or fear or inertia. And though invisible or somehow kept in check, danger is near, waiting to resurface from time to time. Death and divorce, substances, pain and disease seem to be ruthlessly matter-of-fact and to have been undyingly patient as they reach out and tap people on the shoulder. Your turn. As the rest of us suffer alongside, everyone gets their little piece of the aftermath, a reminder that there will be more.
Even so, out here in the water there is mercy, too. I know this firsthand: there is mercy. To quote some old fool, "Love each other or perish."
RIP, J.L. - You were loved and you still are.
