On the time of year.
I always find it fascinating, and sort of frustrating, that just the time of year when I'm finally able to open my arms wide in joy, because it's warm, and it's bright, and it's beautiful, and ths snow melts, and teeny little flowers open improbably, impossibly, just when I want the whole world to share in my joy of spring, is just the time that some of my friends' and loved ones' hearts break, oh the sadness of the snow melting, no more skating, snowboarding, snow angels, no more walking through a Boston snowglobe.
I hate winter so passionately (a good passion--the kind that makes me remember how much I love to possess feelings) and it seems impossible to me that winter could cause joy, especially since I watch the joy on girls' faces as they break out into their spring clothes: halter tops and skirts and sandals. And I watch the joy on the boys' faces as they watch the girls.
Possibly my favorite thing ever is the first day that it is warm enough for the Harvard boys to go out onto the lawn, clad in t-shirts and cargo shorts, and play frisbee.
Another thing that amazes me: people's depression falling down upon them just as mine lifts up. I am feeling so much more released now, the sun warming my face and heart. Like, it's going to be okay now, finally.
So why can't it be okay for everyone, all at once?
I search, I think most people search, for those times and situations and connections with someone else who just seem to get it. Like, bam. Finally. Someone is looking out the same eyes at the same beauty as me. Someone else wants to save the world. Someone else adores grapefruit without sugar. Someone else likes watching boys play frisbee. Someone else thinks hanging out, drinking chianti, and reading the tales of the Hasidim sounds like a good time. Someone else likes to play Set. Someone else likes eating chapchae at Koreana. Someone else wants to study the history of non-violence in religion.
And it's frustrating when those "aha!" moments undo themselves with those moments of, "how can these people, with whom I thought I had a connection, get so far away from my understanding of things?"
And I guess that's why I need God in my life. People, even though they are amazing and give us glimpses of understanding and divinity all the time, will never quite totally understand where I'm coming from. I don't even understand myself. And I'll keep trying, asking questions, caring. But I still want to be understood. Maybe someday I'll be on Saint Francis's level (I seek not to be understood, but to understand), but not yet.
And I think maybe God likes to be needed.
I'm listening to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.
I hate winter so passionately (a good passion--the kind that makes me remember how much I love to possess feelings) and it seems impossible to me that winter could cause joy, especially since I watch the joy on girls' faces as they break out into their spring clothes: halter tops and skirts and sandals. And I watch the joy on the boys' faces as they watch the girls.
Possibly my favorite thing ever is the first day that it is warm enough for the Harvard boys to go out onto the lawn, clad in t-shirts and cargo shorts, and play frisbee.
Another thing that amazes me: people's depression falling down upon them just as mine lifts up. I am feeling so much more released now, the sun warming my face and heart. Like, it's going to be okay now, finally.
So why can't it be okay for everyone, all at once?
I search, I think most people search, for those times and situations and connections with someone else who just seem to get it. Like, bam. Finally. Someone is looking out the same eyes at the same beauty as me. Someone else wants to save the world. Someone else adores grapefruit without sugar. Someone else likes watching boys play frisbee. Someone else thinks hanging out, drinking chianti, and reading the tales of the Hasidim sounds like a good time. Someone else likes to play Set. Someone else likes eating chapchae at Koreana. Someone else wants to study the history of non-violence in religion.
And it's frustrating when those "aha!" moments undo themselves with those moments of, "how can these people, with whom I thought I had a connection, get so far away from my understanding of things?"
And I guess that's why I need God in my life. People, even though they are amazing and give us glimpses of understanding and divinity all the time, will never quite totally understand where I'm coming from. I don't even understand myself. And I'll keep trying, asking questions, caring. But I still want to be understood. Maybe someday I'll be on Saint Francis's level (I seek not to be understood, but to understand), but not yet.
And I think maybe God likes to be needed.
I'm listening to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.