Sunday, April 15, 2007

The Space Between

I've become unreal again. A shell of living, a fragment or a figment, or a piece.

A piece of what?

Music spins around me and I listen and I fall into it. I feel into it. I wonder about it. I wonder about the ever shifting fabric of my existence. I wonder at how to make it solid, how to make it real.

What do you need to be real? There is a question I cannot answer. I wonder about that. I read interesting stories from the news this weekend in relation to genius and the society that moves through the world and it fascinates me. I wonder at a violinist who is perhaps the one of the best the world has ever known who could play for an hour during rush hour and cease to exist.

I think as I ponder his own feeling about the lack of applause, the lack of approval and this captures my imagination in a new way. Here, this man, this genius, talented like no other, questions his own existence in the face of the abject denial of his being by the busy commuters who walk on their way to work.
He plays and wonders at the fact that no one stops, no one throw money his way, no crowd is drawn, no one swayed or entranced by his gift, by his love, by his passion. And when he is finished the thunderous silence of the continued absence to pay tribute to his genius. He says "When you play for ticket-holders...[I am] already validated. I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I'm already accepted."

Acceptance. Is that what one needs to be real, to exist and to have a purpose? I wonder at that.

What do I have? Where is my purpose? Where is my acceptance?

If I don't accept myself any longer then what have I become?

To much thinking today, too much of everything today. I need more sleep but nothing seems to satisfy me and I feel unchained lost, and without the box of reality that can close me and make me feel something other then lost.

Maybe it would be easier to give up trying to be real and just to sink into nothingness, and then, like the pagans who came before me, when my nothingness is completed I will reemerge and be real. I would need not the mourners to wax ashes upon their foreheads, or someone to weep or cry my name. If I can believe enough in myself maybe that is all I need to validate my existence.

Sometimes coming undone is the best way to begin recreation. Maybe that is where I am.

No comments: