“I don’t have any regrets, really, except that one. I wanted to write about you, about us, really. Do you know what I mean? I wanted to write about everything, the life we’re having, and the lives we might have had.”
-Richard, from Michael Cunningham’s The Hours, p. 67
In this part, Richard, a dying writer, is talking about how he feels that he failed, that he wanted to write about everything, but the task proved “insurmountable,” that there was too much to write about; the “weather,” “the water and the land,” “the animals,” “the buildings,” “the past and the future,” “space,” “history,” and more. This passage resonated with me for years so deeply that although I couldn’t remember the exact words after I read them that I had to buy my own copy of the book so I find this part and save it.
Of course we can’t write it all down; there’s so much beauty, it’s so overwhelming, and the words to do it can’t ever be enough. But when we do get it right, even almost right, and we use words to do it, we bridge our own meaning to another’s. From one mind to the next, it’s never an exact translation of meaning, but it connects us. It’s in that struggle to get it out, the meaning we have trapped within us, that belies so much our sociality, the innate need to share, to get out of the infinite spiral staircases of our minds and find windows: not ways out, rather, but ways in, in search of connection, of shared truth.
I can’t help myself; it is so late, but it is my time, my mind is racing and I must get this out for fear that it would be lost for ever; so much it’s hard to type... heck I just wrote a poem on my iphone. Time to head to the big guns, a real keyboard.
I have been struggling about writing about people, no, certain people, in my life, who continue to surprise, fascinate, amaze, and just enliven me with their strength, their courage, their brilliance. My friends! My touchstones! These souls, all nodes in my social network, and so much much more than that! I am just marveling at the ways in which and how I know them. People, real people, that I get to know intimate details about, share and laugh with, cry with, and watch and learn from. My pillars, my mentors, my confidantes, my loves, my family... I thought about writing about them generally, as if in sepate bins/categories, but in relation to me, even, they are all intersecting subsets in the venn diagram space that I am so honored to be a part of. I can talk about my mother as a mentor, but she’s also my friend; my friend S is daily inspiration, but she’s also a pillar, giving my strength. My friend G peppers so many of my days with laughter, but also holds a flashlight, and a map to lead me out of my dark-mind days. My sister, a constant source of inspiration for her relentless commitment topursuing her dreams, and also a mentor at so many times, but also my charge. But to talk about these individuals in relation to me is so limited, so one-sided; I want to ode them, and perhaps the only way I know how to here and now is so abstract, that I will attempt to do in poem (which is a much more forgiving form for the spaces in between, the not-said).
So my friend G photographs (and so many other things!!)
But she takes pictures, and her pictures make your heart stop, just for a moment, to allow you to be frozen for the 1/32nd of a second that it took to take that frame, and when it beats again it’s racing as you chase her daughter up a sand dune, into a wave, or up high on a swing. And you are happy.
My friend B crafts (and so many other things!!), and when she does she invites you in, and together you create such a beautiful, genuine treasure, like homemade jam, magnets, buttons, or cards, and in all that time the treasure is the words you share, the lessons you learn, the meanings you make.
My friend S paints (and so many other things!!)
But she paints, and when she paints, if you get the chance to see, be prepared to stop breathing. Just for a moment, because when you do inhale again, you will breath in so much light and mist and presence, for you are there, walking with her, being led by her hand, through the windows of her beautiful mind.
My sister makes people laugh (and so many other things!!), and when she does she does it with style, and she does it through wedding speeches, as a clown for little ones, in her hilarious scripts. She reminds us that the laughter is always there, in all parts, in every day, in everyone, just needs to found, let out, released.
My mom listens (and so many other things!!), and when she does she gets it, the down-deep, the hard to put into words, the pain, the sorrow, but also the love and the courage. And you sit and tell, and connect, and know that you are not alone.
My dad takes care of (and so many other things!!), and when he does he does it so silently, so thoughtfully, so completely, and never expects acknowledgment. A smile and a nod and maybe just time enough to get the paper, a coffee, and a hug.
My M loves in every way he knows how (and so many other things!!), and when he does he does through his shoes, which carry him to work every morning and his family every evening;
through his eyes, which read through so much data, which cherish so many moments of our growing daughter’s life;
Through his hands, which help and heal, which make music, which hold his family.
My people, my pillars, my reasons.
I wrote this over a week ago, and only now just had the guts to post.
