Where do loneliness and aloneness bridge each other? We each have these wild gardens of life growing inside our lives. How much of our inner lives never leave our heads or hearts? How large and complex a universe lives inside you that others will never know?
Staring out the skylight in the middle of these frozen nights - the stars are so intensely bright. Staring up through the skylight running scenarios of worry, or failure, or victory, or tiny, green islands of nirvana. All the silent movies that are made each night across the world, fueled by the heart and the mind, the stillness, the darkness, and the exhaustion. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I try to imagine how much silence there is out there.
For the past few nights we have been slowly constructing scene three. It begins with monologues, and in a somewhat realistic setting, but gradually turns into movement and sound and rhythm, and ends in a full blown, poetic world. Again, the ideas emerge as everyone labors together, pressing into the uncreated fields of space to find out what might be there. There is nothing more lovely in the world than that.
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When my father graduated from college (say, around 1997), he had a dinner with his three brothers and their mother. I was incidentally there. The brothers were reminiscing about adventures earlier in their lives and, several times, made allusions to secret things or abruptly stopped conversation to cough, or laugh, or look about guiltily.
My grandmother asked why. My father replied, "mom, just as there are certain things that we will never know about you, there are certain things that each of us will take with us to the grave," and then he laughed good-naturedly.
I like to think that the world is beautiful and exciting because of secrets, and that people are beautiful for just the same. Each individual note can be very pretty but, when they all sound out, then you have the Symphony.
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