myspace.
facebook.
flickr.
formspring.
And there's kids playing guns in the street,
And one's pointing his tree branch at me.
So I put my hands up I say:
"Enough is enough,
If you walk away I walk away."
And he shot me dead.
Actually, it’s just been five days, but it feels like a billion years. I kind of enjoy my freedom from tumblr. I haven’t been on flickr either, which is bad. I kind of miss taking pictures, but my camera/lack of inspiration and models is frustrating. Whatever.
Finals week is next week, so it’s going to be hell for the next few days. That on top of Christmas shopping has worn me out.
The Lovely Bones in only two days!
I heard the most beautiful lyrics in a flurry of music I as listening to. I contemplated them, turned them over and around in my head. My heart felt warm and my mind was at ease. I sat there for 5 minutes staring at nothing in pure ecstasy with the most vacant look on my face, a smile wider than a river delta. And then they were gone. Erased from my memory forever. I searched frantically in my memory for the song, but I lost it. Forever it was gone until one day 27 years later when I would hear it on an obscure radio station in the middle of nowhere land. But I was okay. Because in that moment, my mind was at peace. Everything was right in the world. And it was so worth it.
it would mean a lot to me if you read this and posted your thoughts about it on your tumblr:
Liberation within Impermanence
The Higher Octaves was more than just a violin choir. It was a family, a musical family, created from an ocean of personalities and backgrounds. As musicians, we shared the same alluring qualities: an irreversible dorkiness, a certain spicy elitism, and everyone’s favorite; an over-inflated ego coupled with a crippling level of self-critique and lack of self-esteem. When we played our violins, we created beautiful sound and all that was left behind was the echo of melodies ringing in our ears and a flutter in our hearts that accompanied the experience of fundamental harmony – the harmony of music and of purpose and of friendship.
We spent three years together, rehearsing in cozy rooms, basking in the afternoon sun as we played Bach. When we finished our last piece in our last performance, we said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways. Three more years passed, and even though I tried to rekindle our old bonds, the friends I made are all but strangers to me now. I dare not call them. Would I recognize them?
…would they recognize me?
I don’t think so. I’ve become a different person. A stronger person in some ways, a weaker person in others, but the core components of my personality are as they were before. I am fundamentally happy. With this happiness there tends to come a blissful obliviousness. With that there comes clumsiness, and that comes pre-packaged with a sense of humor.
But would they see me any differently now that I’ve changed? What if the little twelve-year old they knew from their middle school years was more than just a hopeless geek with glasses and a fiddle? They would probably pretend that nothing has changed, and that when it comes to getting together again and reliving the good old days, Time will always stand still. And despite where you’ve been or what you’ve done, you can always seek refuge and know that the companions of yesteryear can congregate and do as you’ve always done.
Yet we are all different people now, and change does not treat old friendships kindly. It hurts to admit, but I eventually came to grips with the likely possibility that my long-time friends and I no longer have anything in common save the past.
And what becomes of those who dwell in the past?
Up until the moment I became aware of this prospect, I had always lived in my memories. It was how I defined myself. I was riddled with nostalgia every time something in my life ceased to exist within my routine. My craving for permanence had caused me to live in fear of losing everything I had in the present. A sadness clung to every enjoyable moment; my focus was riveted to how everything would eventually be gone, and I never fully relished all that was given to me.
One day, however, my attention shifted. I woke up one morning and looked out my window. I saw trees, and a clear blue sky. And when I listened, I heard birds. I’m sure this same scene appeared many times before, but I never took the time to notice it. I found this psychological development interesting. I wanted to go back to bed, and sleep for a little while longer, but I didn’t. I didn’t choose to waste any more time thinking about things that happened three years ago or four months ago or even last Tuesday. Instead, I chose to go for a morning run.
The run was not more than half a mile, nor was the time close to my personal best. But to run out the door and onto the sidewalk, past the children playing in the park, feeling my heart pound and my breaths escape me, did I feel awake. As the gentle whisper of wind tickled my forehead, I let the ephemeral scenery rush by me and I gloried in the splendor of the air.
I was liberated.
After years of existing in the pseudo-euphoric world of my past, I had finally squelched the desire to mourn the long-gone and began to stretch out. In a mere half-hour, my perception tilted on its hind legs, and I saw the world with new eyes. This present-world is full of harmony, and I realized I could take part. I strive to create the beauty I see around me every day, and in essence, this has become my religion. When driving through the streets in the early mornings, I would suddenly catch a glimpse of the stretching sunrise, and instead of painfully repining its ultimate absence, it became all the more beautiful for its fleeting nature. I could walk to my favorite coffee shop downtown and see the barista smile at my predictable order, frolic in the resplendent autumn leaves, laugh with the woman I just met, and I was okay.
Everything in this world is finite; I cannot change the inevitable, but realizing this helped placate my fears about change with the immediacy and beauty everywhere. Every once in a while, when I fear losing what I have in the present, I stop a minute to think how lucky I am to have had it in the first place. And then I laugh aloud, and delight in the transience of the world.
Wow. All I can say is wow. It’s rare to find such insightful, intuitive, and introspective writing. All I laughed at the jokes, teared up at the descriptions, and was smiling all the way through to the end.
This is how I try to look at life everyday. I can sit around and think about how things could have been or how they used to be, or I can appreciate the beauty of each moment as it is. The truth is we’re all very lucky to be alive. Even though some of us haven’t had the best lives the only thing you can do is change it for yourself. As much as I would love for reincarnation to be real, we’ve only got one shot. Make the most out of it. Love life. Live now.
Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I’m sure I’ll be thinking about this all night and dreaming about until I wake up. Truly beautiful.
