Wednesday, September 5, 2007

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog ...

Short note that should help get you through a crazy and devilish week:

They may have taken Smurfs off the air, but they can never take them out of your heart.

Stand true blue, through and through ... and Smurf yourself a grin.

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Recreating ...

Think back to the most amazing moment(s) of your life. Picture every detail; ponder every picture; and feel. That's probably the most important part ... just feel what it was like to be there. Exult that you had that chance.

Once, I stood on the top of the Great Wall of China in the middle of a long stretch winding across impressive mountain peaks north of Beijing. As I stood there, alone, early on that June morning, wind rushed up from all four sides of the watchtower creating a vortex of sorts. All around for miles I could see little to spoil this one, true connection with nature and the accompanying sensory explosion.

Once, I sat listening to a dramatization of Dumas' poetic "The Count of Monte Cristo." As the actors, especially the one playing the formidable Dante, delved deeper into one of the most impressive studies of revenge ever imagined, I joined them - more than I had joined any performance before or since. What they did through their cantering stagecraft to create this vision, I don't know; but I was enraptured and could not help being sucked full tilt into their world.

Once, on a frosty, clear night in December, I sat in an open field with the only woman who has ever found true space in my heart (thus far), and gazed for hours at the twinkling heavens.

Eternity is built on such as this - commonplace moments possessed of unexpected and unwatched for vitality and sweetness. Little do we know their power until we are left foresaken and grasping ... trying desperately to recreate past masterpieces.

I don't know why I wrote this (and I'm the only one who reads them anyway). Perhaps I'm just looking for something I was, or something I did, or something wonderful the once happened to me and hoping (but really without much hope) that I can recreate this perfected past. But, then again, who really has time for recreating on a Saturday night?