"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Angel with a Coffeecup
fas-ci-nate Function: verb
Etymology: Latin fascinatus, past participle of fascinare, from fascinum evil spell
Date: 1598
transitive senses
1 obsolete : BEWITCH
2 a : to transfix and hold spellbound by an irresistible power [believed that the serpent could fascinate its prey] b : to command the interest of : ALLURE [was fascinated by carnivals] : to be irresistibly attractive [the novel's flamboyant cover fascinates]
3 : what Michelle could do without trying
Blogger Idol has suggested that this week we talk about the 80's. Well, seems like a good time to talk about Michelle.
This happened in 1989, but it still qualifies.
At the time, I was working for a computer company. We were selling computers in central Florida, in Ocala and Inverness. This is way back, when the 286's and 386's were still the workhorses, and 486's were the speed demons, running at 33 megahertz. This was back when a hundred megabyte hard drive cost over $1,000.
And there I was, selling these things in an area populated mostly by people over 60. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but older folks seldom have been on the cutting edge of technology and 1989 was no exception.
Which is why Michelle stood out, I think. She was probably 18 or 19, and was as beautiful as a Spring morning. I first saw her when I went for a cup of coffee after we closed, and she was working in the coffee shop on the other side of the strip mall. The next night I went in and she had already dumped and cleaned the coffeepots, but she told me that if I wanted to come in each night after work, she would make sure I had hot coffee.
So, every night after we closed I would head across the parking lot and get that cup of coffee along with a side of conversation.
She told me about her father, who she lived with. Her mother had passed away when she was younger and her father had raised her. They loved each other very, very much.
She told me about her dreams, to become a fashion designer. She wanted to go to school and learn how to do that, and was putting money away so she could.
One night I ended up working late. The phone rang and it was Michelle, checking to see if I was coming for coffee. Man, that sort of thing makes you feel good. To become a part of anyone's life, for someone to count you as such a friend, that is valuable.
One week, the fair came to town.
I wasn't really thinking about it when I went for my nightly cup. When I walked in there were several friends of Michelle's sitting at a table. She introduced me to all of them. She told me that they were going to the fair.
And she asked me to go with her.
Now, at this time, I was already engaged to the lady who would become my wife. So this question was far more important than it looked, or than Michelle knew.
Every so often in our lives there comes a moment when our morals are tested in an unexpected way. We have to make a split second decision, and the results can be catastrophic if we choose wrong. This was one of those moments.
I really wanted to go. It would be a harmless trip, nothing would be amiss.
"I'm sorry, I can't go, Michelle. But thank you so much for asking."
I passed the test.
And it was OK. I still went by and had my nightly coffee until the day when I left that job, which was only a month or so later. A few weeks after that I dropped by the coffee shop, and the lady in there told me that Michelle no longer worked there.
I hope she did well. I hope she is designing clothes. I hope she found someone that deserved someone like her. Every Columbine, after all, deserves a Harliquin eventually.
Sometimes when you look back on a situation, you realize it wasn't all you thought it was. A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. Or did you? Maybe it was only a childish infatuation, or maybe just a brief moment of vanity.
Henry Bromel, Northern Exposure, The Big Kiss, 1991
pa-thos Function: noun
Etymology: Greek, suffering, experience, emotion, from paschein (aorist pathein) to experience, suffer; perhaps akin to Lithuanian kesti to suffer
Date: 1591
1 : an element in experience or in artistic representation evoking pity or compassion
2 : an emotion of sympathetic pity
3 : the stock in trade of a Harlequin
I've decided what I want on my tattoo.
Well, it will be a while before I can get it, since I have yet to even get the boss to discuss it with me, but eventually I'll get her to come around.
Anyways, the tattoo will be a representation of the comedia del arte. Which of course begs the question, what the heck is a comedia del arte?
Ah, I was hoping you would ask that.
The comedia del arte was a stage production in Italy in the 16th through 18th century. (Hang on, I promise this won't be boring!) The production spawned stage productions throughout Europe called "Harlequinades." One of the hallmarks of these productions was that the scripts were improvised on the fly. Another was the presence of the character "Arlecchino," later known as Harlequin or Harliquin.
In a Harlequinade, there would usually be a love triangle involving the following characters:
Columbine, who was the very vision of beauty and grace itself. Think of the prettiest, most graceful and vivacious girl you ever saw. That's her.
Pierrot, or Pedrolino, who is a person hopelessly in love with Columbine. Sadly, his love will not be returned. He is portrayed as a clown and a buffoon. In a way, laughing at Pierrot is a cruel pastime, but humans have always enjoyed things like that.
And finally, the capricious and captivating Harliquin, who steals Columbine's heart because he is completely irresistable. Frequently, even though the Harliquin would also love Columbine in return, he would treat those around him, such as his friend Pierrot, heartlessly. As the years passed, this trait in his character pretty much vanished, leaving him as a witty, nimble romantic.
A nimble romantic who gets the girl. What a concept.
So anyways, the tattoo will be Harlequin in the front, and behind him will be Columbine and Pierrot, one on each side.
I figure it'll look cool.
I see a lot of myself in the Harliquin. He may be heartless at times (he can't help it), but he does show deep compassion, particularly in his later incarnations (which is another thing we have in common, come to think of it.) He wants to be the center of attention, and I find myself doing that as well.
His outfit is always diamond patterned, representing his capricious nature.
Hey, I'm bipolar. That's as capricious as it gets.
I also see a lot of myself in Pierrot as well, the sadness, the depth of emotion, the compassion and love given unasked for. Yes, I can see through his eyes as well.
And Columbine... How many times have I seen you, dear lover?
More on this later. For now, enjoy the dance.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.
Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967), Not So Deep as a Well (1937), "Comment"
di-ver-gence Function: noun
Date: 1656
1 a : a drawing apart (as of lines extending from a common center) b : DIFFERENCE, DISAGREEMENT c : the acquisition of dissimilar characters by related organisms in unlike environments
2 : a deviation from a course or standard
3 : Me, and the rest of the world, since I can remember
Sometimes I feel like everybody else is speaking German and I am the only person who doesn't know the language.
Or perhaps I feel like I am walking through a park blindfolded, trying to make my way based on the overheard and implied sounds of others, which I seldom interpret accurately.
Or maybe it's more like having a phone conversation with earplugs.
Or tying a knot in thread while wearing mittens.
You get the drift, I suspect.
I feel broken.
Why? Deep inside I have such a need to care for other people and by so doing to validate myself. When there is a choice between myself and another, the choice is already decided. Even when I have to almost beg to help, I'll do it.
I want to pour myself out like a fine liquour to spread myself out so widely that I can no longer even find myself, only the results of my warm heart.
Of course, in real life it's not that clear cut or easy.
On one side, you have the way the world works, based on selfishness. People think that they get things because they deserve them, and that you or I owe them something because of so and so. This creates a scenario of taking, not giving.
On the other side, there are people like me, who will give without thinking of the cost. If I have five dollar bills in my pocket, I will give them to another person who needs it without considering that I will not have lunch. Oh, I will know, but it won't matter.
The people that I know who are like me, I could number them on one hand and have fingers left.
Freedom, then, lies only in our innate human capacity to choose between different sorts of bondage, bondage to desire or self esteem, or bondage to the light that lightens all our lives.
Sri Madhava
