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diaryland

say my name in the morning

20 May 2007 - 02:18

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>

If I didn't have to wait for the bus and distract myself from cold and boredom, I would not take this time to record my life.

Starting over. In this chapter of my remembered existence, my cycles are unlike those of any other time. I feel as though my life completely breaks down about once a month. That might sound really awful, but it's not. First, I'm somewhat used to terror, confusion, and what I will call trustful hopelessness -- that knowing that I will figure out how to get out of a conundrum while being utterly baffled by it. Second, every time my sand castle washes away, I am left with a beach of glittering sand, endless possibility, and vision to build a new world. And a maddening love for those crashing waves.

I wish I could give you details that would flesh all of this out, but what is important is the rush of enthusiasm I get about life when I am about to begin building again. That's a feeling that is independent of details, a feeling that renders details irrelevant.

The other day I was walking across my glittering beach to the grocery store. The sun nearly blinded me, and the cars racing along Sandy Blvd. sounded like waves, and I felt something that I've suspected for a long time: What I do does not matter at all.

I thought about all the different choices I could have made in the last few years, last few days, last few moments, and I felt as though no set of outcomes could have made my heart sing louder than it was in that moment. I saw a tiny bird in a newly planted tree, and it was the most beautiful sight the sun could show me.

What I have to show for where I am in life and what I have done is not a famous painting or a wing in a hospital in my name or a huge bank account balance. It's not a child. At this point, I am not really sure it's much of a difference in anyone else's life.

What I have to show for all this is me.



Darling, we will be fine, but what was yours and mine
Appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes
But if it's all just the same, then will you say my name:
Say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks?
--Joanna Newsom, "Sawdust and Diamonds"

Come on, pelicans!  Fly, fly away!

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>