Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Earlier this evening, my iPod thoughtfully followed Devo's It's a Beautiful World with Amy Correia's Life is Beautiful. The contrast literally made me cry, even more than Life is Beautiful usually does. I love Devo's wry cynicism, but it was fabulous to have Amy Correia immediately demonstrate how wrong that cynicism is.I have so many frustrations, so much angst over things of trivial importance and greater significance alike. In some ways, I feel I have been stretched and twisted to my breaking point in recent months.Yet I have also grown more and more ready to weep at pure beauty, and I would not give up that intensity of feeling for any reduction in stress.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Friday, September 05, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
To be precise, I’ve been updating my profile with books and music and movies that I love.
I’ve previously left these things off because I thought an air of mystery befit the anonymous founder of an agnostic religion, and because I like the notion of people filling in their idea of me in whatever way most pleases them. But I’ve hit upon no real wisdom to share in the last few days, and I’d like to share something.
So have a look at my profile if you care to, and if any of my recommendations leads you to something you like, then I feel grateful for the opportunity to brighten your world.
Thank you, goddess of love, for art of all kinds and for the wonderful spirits who create it.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
On a recent airline flight for business, I sat beside a beautiful woman who had the window seat. It was a one-stop flight for me, and when she deplaned I had another leg to go. So I took her spot with the innocent intention of being able to look out across the landscape when the plane rose again into broad, bright sky.
But -- in moving, I found myself embraced by the soft warmth that her body had left behind.
How close the two of us had been, for the forty-five minutes of that first flight. Her arm kept brushing mine, as she typed or reached across me to take her drink from the flight attendant. Though I read, and she worked on her laptop, and we spoke at most a few dozen words to one another, I nonetheless had a vivid awareness the whole time of how very near at hand she rested.
Life consists in beauty brought close. Some of it is ours to take hold of; some of it is for our senses alone to drink in.
I had a pleasant moment of surprise, on sitting back down in this vanished woman's body heat. It felt a bit as if a ghost of her remained in the seat with me, her hips and pelvis and thighs overlapping my own. Had I premeditated this, I think the experience might have bordered on creepy -- a sordid, vicarious usurpation of her lingering most private space. But because it was a surprise and not a goal, it felt fresh, and clean -- a wholesome, unshared echo of intimacy from someone who had been entirely pleasant and bright in her few words to me -- mostly apologies for inadvertantly crossing my space with her arm, or for shutting the window as I sat reading by its light.
Would she be aghast and indignant at my enjoyment of her fading personal heat in that chair? Or would she think it a natural extension of our close-set, warm, yet very limited interactions during the flight? Most likely the former; that is how our world works, with the self and the self-space carefully guarded against happenstance brushes with other selves and self-spaces.
Of course, she will never know, just as I will never know her name or what business took her from city to city on that day.
In an ideal world, I would love her anyway, and she would love me, and we would each love every other person we bumped into or glimpsed along the arcs through which our travels carried us.
But this being the world that it is, I will simply have to be happy with what has been granted me.
Thank you, goddess of love, for my tangent of intimacy with that unnamed, lovely woman, and for whatever similar ripples of happiness she sends out to others as she moves through this world.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
I climb from this darkness of woe and grief to live in the clean, bright air.
A positive thought, repeated in place of that very human tendency to dwell on our difficulties, is a powerful tool for overcoming despair.
Thank you, goddess, for the gift of determination.
Friday, August 08, 2008
If you're reading this on August 8, 2008, instead of watching the opening ceremonies for the Olympics, I recommend that you turn off your computer and turn on your television.