On Watching "Bright Star"

The character portrayed in this film is an evenly balanced, thoughtful, and sensitive young man, not the tempestuous, feverish, burn-the-candle-at-both-ends figure I've come to believe John Keats was. Perhaps it's my lack of biographical knowledge that takes me by surprise me in this portrayal...

I almost forget that in days gone by, the word, spoken and written, was so cherished. It seems that people loved to gather in the evening after dinner to recite poetry, speeches, verses, as well as perform music or theatrical tidbits. I get it. There was no radio, television, or internet. The word was everything. Letters were the windows to the soul and far away places.

Today words are everywhere. Perhaps they are like tourist sights to those who are local residents. They are there, but in the course of the daily routine, are part of the background, noticed but not truly seen.

Winter

It's been an unusually severe winter in these parts. Southern Connecticut is not known for long bouts of cold and snow, but this year the ground has been blanketed in white for weeks. Most people despise it. They say, I can't wait for Spring, but I like it. It's a distraction. It puts a monkey wrench in life, throws the world on it's head. Going out in the frigid temperature gives people pause. You don't just open the door, and walk out. You must put on your coat, gloves, hat. If it has just snowed, you need to shovel a walk to the car. You have to brush the snow off the car, turn it on so that the inside is heated up to a cozy temperature. When you drive, you must slow down, and use more caution. Some people don't, but they pay the price. It makes people think, be more mindful of things around them. You can't escape it - that's the nature of Nature. People can't control it. It dictates to people. In a sense, it speaks. Hopefully, some will listen.

Morning Light

Even when the blinds are drawn, I can tell what time it is just by how they glow. Many times, I hate the sight of those yellow blinds. The phosphorescent buzz reminds me it's time to get up, and make my way to work. I begrudgingly, rise, and start the ritual.

As I gradually come to life, I am filled with the day. Perhaps I project - will it be a good one, or will it be filled with uncertainty and stress? As I stand in front of the mirror shaving, I notice my reflection softened by the morning light. I become fascinated by how the rough edges and lines have been smoothed. I lose myself in the vision. I drift away to far-away, fantasy places. I rise above the day and my worries. I've come to delight in the morning light.

Triumph

I was never a show-boater. I despised most show-boaters, those who'd say, "Hey, in your face - I'm Number 1." Perhaps it had to with growing up and hearing people like my Grandfather say, "If you do a good job, people will notice. You don't need to broadcast."

I grew up with a lack of self-esteem. I was rarely confident. On some occasions, just by the lucky fact that I did something that caught people's eyes, and they'd tell me so, I'd think, hey, maybe, I do do some things well. Well, maybe it wasn't that severe, but I do remember living under a certain cloud of doubt that I could rarely shake. Sometimes it held me back, and I didn't know if I'd ever shake it.

I also came to disdain Sloganeers, Hallmark Cards, bumper stickers, and other such things that promoted high self esteem, mostly because I never felt the sentiment. Stuff like "Be good to yourself, " or "You are the creator of your Universe," left me empty, largely because I thought they were bullshit, and people who wrote or printed them just said them to say something they thought others needed or wanted to hear.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of victory. Not major in the annals of Humankind, but my personal-kind. I could go on and give a blow by blow description of the events leading up to this work-related triumph, but I will just say, I came through in the clutch, and it put me on a path I am happy to be on. It's a feeling better than all those bumper stickers put together. It's not like I feel better than so and so or I've sprouted wings and will fly to the Sun. It's a sense of inner peace. The knowledge that I can cope, sustain, and live my life in spite of crap all around me. I really felt it, and there's no going back.

Control

The snow has fallen. It covers the ground outside. I could not have kept it from falling, but I must go to work. It's, perhaps, six inches deep, not the twelve that was predicted. Traffic is light. Every minute or so, a car or truck passes. I will attempt to drive the 22 miles to work. I'd rather stay home, but I'm not totally opposed to work either. We're supposed to have a demo this morning, but who knows? My part works - that's all I can control. The other parts of the day will fall in place, with or without me.

Patience

Up until Monday, it was a lusciously liberating time. The anxiety and stress that existed was gone. There was still the knowledge that all was not over, but it was a welcome break, and I was reveling in it. Monday, it all ended.

I tried to remain open to change. I did my best to maintain hope. I said, give it a week, then make a judgement. Maybe things will change? But it's hard for old habits to die, and I knew she, most of all, is very resistant. It's not her nature to admit to the reality of things. She has a vision, and she will stick to it no matter what. I find that way very depressing, and so, I felt depressed with their return.

For the first few days, she seemed to slow down and back off, then I came back from work on Wednesday. She was systematically setting the table in the way she envisioned it should be. I cringed. It was just the tip of the iceberg. To the unacquainted eye, it's an act of generosity, but for those who really know her, it's a way to control. Everything has to be the way she wants it. If not, she will do what it takes to wrestle that control away. The whole business is exhausting.

I've made a pledge not to get into with her. It only reflects badly on me. I will do my best to help, but I will not submit to the wackiness. I'm present for certain duties, but detached for others. That's how I will get through the next few months, and it's not entirely Hell. Certainly, I remain open to positive outcomes. I will do my best to contribute to those. Patience is a virtue, and I am learning.

Peace of mind

When caught up in life's dilemmas and fevers, it's hard to imagine a sense of tranquility. It's easy to get caught up in the feelings of the moment. Perhaps peace of mind is less of the momentary experience, but the knowledge that it will come, and maintaining a sense of balance even in the most challenging of times.