(no subject)
There's an old man who walks around downtown, carrying a boombox with piano music and playing invisible keys with his fingers. I see him often, and wondered what his story was. Today he came over to me as I was reading and introduced himself, and when I asked him why he did what he did all day he told me this:
When he was seventy years old, he sat down at a piano without any formal training, barely able to read a note of music, with only five years or so of informal tinkering in his background. To his surprise, he created eighteen songs that were beautiful, and he recorded them all to remember the magic. He thought his music had healing powers, that his music helped others transcend the depressive state to the romantic state. He had finally found another place to play piano, a center for rehabilitation filled with depressives and heavily medicated addicts. He wasn't sure he would be able to produce anymore beautiful songs, but he said, "If I could help even one person feel better, then it would be as though I were famous."
As I was walking home today, I thought about the revelations that the boys in my life made to me this year. For so long my greatest fear was that I would disappear for them, that I would walk around the rest of my life with them inside me, and they would forget me happily as they moved through their futures. But there have been a few moments, from unexpected corners, which revealed the way I lingered for them. It meant so much to me, to know that I am enough of a person to leave traces for others. It helps me get through these last few months in Santa Cruz, knowing that I won't be effaced when I leave. Just to know that I helped them feel better, to know that I made them feel loved, to know that I was important for them, made me feel content with my life and myself in a new way. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I always wanted to be.
When he was seventy years old, he sat down at a piano without any formal training, barely able to read a note of music, with only five years or so of informal tinkering in his background. To his surprise, he created eighteen songs that were beautiful, and he recorded them all to remember the magic. He thought his music had healing powers, that his music helped others transcend the depressive state to the romantic state. He had finally found another place to play piano, a center for rehabilitation filled with depressives and heavily medicated addicts. He wasn't sure he would be able to produce anymore beautiful songs, but he said, "If I could help even one person feel better, then it would be as though I were famous."
As I was walking home today, I thought about the revelations that the boys in my life made to me this year. For so long my greatest fear was that I would disappear for them, that I would walk around the rest of my life with them inside me, and they would forget me happily as they moved through their futures. But there have been a few moments, from unexpected corners, which revealed the way I lingered for them. It meant so much to me, to know that I am enough of a person to leave traces for others. It helps me get through these last few months in Santa Cruz, knowing that I won't be effaced when I leave. Just to know that I helped them feel better, to know that I made them feel loved, to know that I was important for them, made me feel content with my life and myself in a new way. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I always wanted to be.