Sometimes I forget that brains are like bodies. You have to put in good stuff to get good stuff out. This weekend, I made a conscious effort to put some good in the ol’ noggin and little bits of everything are all bouncing around in there together now.
I learned the chords on the uke for that song from Charlotte’s Web, the one about Mother Earth and Father Time. It’s been stuck in my head for days now. The lyrics just pop up in the middle of a thought and I wonder what it is my subconscious is trying to get me to pay attention to.
//How very special are we, for just a moment to be//
I read that Steve Martin play I wrote about the other day, the one about Einstein and Picasso meeting in a bar in Paris. It’s called Picasso at the Lapine Agile and I have had passages from it dancing through my head all day. I can’t stop thinking about a line Picasso says, something about how he’s not drawing from the past or even the present. But how he puts his pencil to the page and the future comes through. It sounds grandiose and a little silly at first, but maybe that’s what we’re all doing. Putting pen to paper and predicting the next moment.
//part of life’s eternal rhyme//
Today, I walked down to Harvard to see Lisa sing with her chorus and an orchestra. The concert was based around the theme of Dona Nobis Pacem. For those of you non-Latin speakers (I, too, had to look it up), it means grant us peace. It’s a plea to God, traditionally. But it felt like something we were all saying to one another for an hour or so. We sat on wooden pews set upon wooden floors and listened to the voices rise up the wood-paneled walls of the theater. It was a warm sound, the kind that lingers around you. The conductor spoke before the concert, saying that they were going to perform music written almost a century ago, and in some way, we would be reaching into the past and finding solace in those notes today. And I couldn’t help but think of Picasso in the play and wonder if people a hundred years from now would find the same solace in that same place from the music just barely being written right now in pencil scratches on a page.
//How very special are we, to have on our family tree//
After drinks and dinner with pals, I went to see Lion. That movie slammed into me like wild horse. I felt knocked over by it. It was the acting and the directing and all that stuff that makes a movie great. But it was also just the story. The idea of trying to find family and home, even when you have a family and a home that you love. That sense of urgency in trying to touch something you lost long ago, some feeling of comfort and calm. Knowing there’s something you can’t know until you see it for yourself. It all felt so impossibly relatable. Impossible, because how do I see myself in a story about an Indian orphan adopted by Australian parents? But then, we’re all connected in so many ways.
//Mother Earth and Father Time//
On my walk to the concert this afternoon, I was listening to the Smartypants podcast, where Rowan Ricardo Phillips read his poem, “Halo.” I listened to it again on the walk home because a line in it just kept pinging around in my brain. Something about how after you read it, a poem moves on. But your head is left with a halo.
Tonight, I feel like that. I’ve got a dying-spider-song, wacky-art-meets-science-play, searching-for-a-homeland-movie, quiet-little-poem halo around me.