It’s Good to Be Back
So, weeks later, after I’ve dropped out of the cyber universe, a post appears, read by the most devout, or perhaps deranged, of readers that still check my page after this leave of absence. And now I’m back, back for today; tomorrow who knows? As school starts back it seems sanity has been restored in the forms of a relative schedule of my time and expectations for what tomorrow will bring. I’m now working at UPS, the 4am to 9am shift, and this past week I’ve been meeting numerous new students at our school. The week prior I was in New York for the “great” blackout of 2003, we lost power for 7 hours at my location in Hampton Bays on east Long Island. My major is now an English major, with intentions to soon declare a double major in history. Post graduate plans? I’d really like to go to seminary in hopes of becoming a pastor.
So what’s the meat of this post? Where is the philosophical gold in these words? First, I would differ to say have my posts ever been “gold” or anything besides (continuing the analogies) spoiled meat or dross? What witty commentary or insightful adage do I have to contribute? On this night, none, other than that which is not my own: despite all my best efforts otherwise, my life is good and I have been extremely blessed to be where I am today, take heart if you are in times of strife when reading this post, cheer up, it’s rarely as bad as it may seem.
Music to My Ears
The contralto’s notes soar amongst the vaulted ceilings, bouncing off with magnified intensity as the choir knits the Requiem together. My sister and I sit in the cheap seats, only seven Euros, but what does it matter? Is this heaven?
Traveling the streets of Nice, it was a seemingly dismal day. Despite the French Riviera, it was cold, worsened only by interruptions of rain as my traveling companions and I toured the sites of the opulent European class. By such meanderings, I discovered that there was to be a performance of Mozart’s Requiem in the cathedral that evening. Enthralled at the opportunity, I grabbed the clothes I’d packed away just in case and made my way to the cathedral that night. My sister, though not having complementary clothes, but having a like appreciation of music, accompanied me.
As we entered the lighted cathedral, seeing the luminous stained glass windows, my anticipation only grew. The performance began. From start to finish, it captivated my very being. I remember closing my eyes and letting the music’s reverberations cascade in my soul. Solo after solo, choral number after choral number let loose their laud, and before I knew it, the performance was over.
With surround sound in my room, I’m probably one of few college students that has his windows open, blaring operas, concertos, or requiems out to the world. There’s no colored glass, no statues dotting my room; vaulted ceiling? At around 10 feet, it’s nothing special. I just think back to that one time, with those prolific notes, and the music carries me away to its choral plane once again. It’s music to my ears.
Crickets
I glance out my window to see tree silhouettes covering a beige-orange-blue background, water glistens in the dusk as it trickles down palm fronds. Life is all about the little things; it’s about seizing that opportunity to do something nice, it’s about using the L-word more often, life is about hearing the crickets chirp in the last moments of the sun before darkness falls. I say so often, “If I won the lottery,” “If I was clairvoyant,” “If, if, …if;” all big things, all extraordinary occurrences. So what about the small things? That I could appreciate every moment, no matter how minuscule, to the fullest, taking every opportunity to do what is right; life would be grander than any miraculous occurrence. Of course, to ask such things is to ask for a miracle in and of itself, to ask that every time I see a sight, I would appreciate its beauty, every time I hear a rain drop fall, I could savor its note; my life would be an infinity of split-seconds, mille-seconds, and maybe I’d never grasp the whole. So life is about cherishing what I’ve got, grasping the big picture when at times I can, and holding the small things whenever they catch my attention; life is life, and right now that means crickets chirping as the light fades on this Friday.
