Today is the penultimate eve of the new presidency. Like many, I have great fears for our future. Not only does idea of a horrible world leader terrify me, but the new reign of greed, well, that terrifies me as well.
These are scary times.
Yes, it is also a time of action.
Many are drawn to march and serve in public office, which is awesome.
There are other ways to fight against the hate.
As long as we can create, we can move forward.
We can create beauty, and as long as we have beauty, we have hope.
As long as we appreciate the beauty, we have hope.
And I hope to create beauty in truth through the characters and worlds I create.
Here’s something beautiful from one of my favorite composers. It’s worth a listen when the news is getting you down.
So with my mind I encompass an eternity,
And the seasons die, and the present lives
In that sound. And in the middle of all that
Immensity, my thought drowns itself:
Sweet to me, to be shipwrecked in this sea.
I want time to stop. With the cherry tree blossoms just about to drop and the lilacs just opening, this phase of spring sings perfection.
In an American literature course a million years ago we read poetry. When we analyzed Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” we discussed the theme of grief and considered the pastoral elements in the poem.
What about the lilacs?
“Have you ever smelled lilacs?” Dr. Chianese, our professor, asked us.
Most of us had not. We were Los Angeles types moved by scent of jasmine and orange blossoms. We had no source of reference.
I now understand Dr. Chianese’s question, for the scent of a lilac is truly exquisite, ephemeral, and unique. The short space of time when Whitman contemplated the death of President Lincoln, and I rejoice in the rebirth of the garden.