Archive | Quoth the Raving

Apples Sweet and Tart

Two champions of empathy died yesterday: Albert Maysles and Lisa Bonchek Adams. They had nothing in common with each other, nor I with either of them. But because of their great example, this does not matter. I feel their loss as keenly as if I’d shared sacred coffee with them every week. Lisa, who was as tart as she was sweet, implored everyone daily to embrace beauty and truth. Maysles found both where others merely found junk. I keep thinking about how we must honor their very bright lights. Change is inevitable when big stars go dark, and we must court that change. I keep reading this Louise Erdrich quote, and listening close.

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.

The Shadow of Your Smile

I appreciate the creative incubation tank proffered by winter, I really do, but now that it’s officially March I find myself eying the floral dresses in my closet with a longing I usually reserve for chocolate-lemon tarts, Helena Rubenstein’s jewels, and certain exes who just aren’t good for me. Yesterday it snowed yet again, and to console myself I bought some tulips buds; their nascence matched my mood. Today they popped: yellow blooms with slender red stripes, such a pretty surprise. I love them ardently, and as I work at my desk, keep stealing glances of these proud little ambassadors of a spring that’s bound to arrive someday, regardless of the blizzard that threatens to arrive later this week. Who can believe such doomsday predictions anyway? Today at least it promises to reach 40 degrees and the sun is shining with all her might. I am cheering her on. “Only God, my dear/ Could love you for yourself alone/ And not your yellow hair.”

Loads of Lovely Love

I’m done hating Valentine’s Day. Instead, I celebrate the sort of love that I actually embrace: the communion of kindred spirits. As Camus (yes, I’m quoting an existentialist today) says: “Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

This week, I received a Valentine’s package of candy and lace and handmade notes from my glorious goddaughters Delia and Luci—ages 12 and 9, respectively. It reminded me that, when we were kids, February 14 was a time to celebrate friendship and gobble chocolate. So why not bring that back? Let’s take this holiday, however crassly commercial it may be, as an opportunity to beam extra sweetness into the world. Sparkle with great kindness; I know that’s your real self, anyway. To quote dear Anne of Green Gables: “It’s splendid to find there are so many kindred spirits in the world.”

I send love–juicy, limitless love–to everyone.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy