If you always get up late, you're never gonna be on time
Woke up early this morning, cold. I have this thing where, in phases, where the minute I get up my nose starts running and it makes it difficult to go back to sleep. So I was waiting around for my nose to stop running and decided I might as well go for a walk. I guess I figured it's not often that I am up early enough to watch the sun come up. And it's really kind of amazing to watch the light shift and the trees that are black against indigo sky become trees that are varying shades of brown against greyblue sky. I think trees have taught me more about negative space than any university level art class could. The branches all bumpy with buds as another faux spring is behind us. And, as I am noticing in my little weather report bar, one is upcoming, as well.
Right now, though, it's a chilly 29 degrees out there, and the walk was brisk and cool, but the music selections - as always - warmed my soul...as did thoughts of laughter and conversation throughout the week. Even though I have had a vague tiredness about me all week, it has been a good one. And now the sun is all fully out in the sky and the birds are singing and I am still not wanting sleep even though I really SHOULD. I am no longer tired, though...and might just as well go about my day as if a full night of sleep has been had. Right now, I am contemplating breakfast.
I am also thinking about a conversation I had yesterday in which a friend of mine was proposing that joy is shallow and that all creative urges arise from sorrow. I have been thinking this throughout my joyous walk, greeting my joyous day, surrounded by the joyous chirping of birds. Of course I know my friend knows better, but it struck me. Made me think a lot about happiness...not mere contentment, but utter bliss...as a creative process in and of itself. At least as much as sorrow, if not more. And it was extra super funny, because I was listening to my friend's music at the time that I thought this and noticing no small amount of joy in what he has created...no small amount and on occasion an absolute and unmistakable ecstatic expression of love for life. In fact, it's one of the reasons I admire him so.
So, yeah. That's me. Stumbling along feeling mystified and alive and watching the day break (and now...trying HARD not to think about Barry Freaking Manilow)("and let it shine! Shine! Shine! All around the world!")(ah...fuck!) and listening to bird songs and dog sighs and that certain silence that exists in a house that is absent its children.
Love love. Hope yr day is wonderful.
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Swimmers
(Broken Social Scene)
