Date: 2005-02-11
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

6:10pm2.11.05The dusky sky this evening was a palette of pastel hues -- a soft, creamy blue, a pale blush, subdued violets, pearly grays. A skyscape resembling a painter¢s canvas, as if several swift brushstrokes swept across the heavens, the colors so vibrant yet, conundrically, so muted. A scene demanding reflection. I know my journal has drifted away from the reflective, philosophical, theory-laden, angst-ridden content of late. A trend perhaps due to the fact that, until yesterday, I was largely incapable of stringing together two consecutive coherent sentences, let alone formulating a cohesive discussion. But, the fog encapsulating my mind (synchronous w/ the flu ravaging my body) has lifted, or at least, is dissipating. Thus, I can now assault my journal w/ the aforementioned angst. Frankly, the reason I haven¢t written much lately is simply that I haven¢t much felt like writing. My muse took a sabbatical, a brief respite from the onslaught of my ravings. But, it¢s back. And, if it isn¢t, I¢m gonna drag it back, kicking and screaming, one¢¦ interminable¢¦ word¢¦ at¢¦ a¢¦ time.I received a letter from Mom today. An actual letter, as in the kind the mail carrier pulls from their pouch, and stuffs through the slot on your front door, and it goes zipping across the hardwood floor, and you have to act fast, b/c at 20-months, Nina is astute enough to know what she isn¢t supposed to have, and devious enough to get it anyway. She¢s surprisingly agile on those short, unsteady legs of hers. But, there was no competition this afternoon to claim the prize of today¢s mail (and consequently no ensuing cajoling and wheedling and offers of trade and, ultimately, temper tantrums, as the mail is wrested from Nina¢s, again surprisingly, firm grasp) as I was the only one home upon its arrival. This whole letter-writing thing is a relatively new form of correspondence b/t Mom and I. Sort of in the style of Virginia Woolf and Henry James. There¢s just something to be said about a hand-written letter, some intangible quality of a tangible communique. A sense of permanence. A level of personal interaction that e-mail just can¢t quite emulate. On some levels, I suppose an e-mail is simply a virtual letter, a digital missive. But, there¢s an element that the technological gizmos just can¢t capture. Handwritten letters are more formal, and simultaneously, more intimate. Maybe it stems from the physical act of writing, applying pen to paper. Maybe it¢s the individuality of handwriting, that tacitly and subconsciously communicates through the paper you hold in your hands. Maybe it¢s simply holding the page in your hands, rather than gazing at a computer screen. Maybe, once again, my over-analytical brain is garbling this beyond comprehension. Maybe I¢ll shut up about this now. Anyway, for whatever (il)logical reasoning, Mom and I have recently begun exchanging letters. (Not that we had trouble communicating before; I¢m actually extremely fortunate to have very healthy relationships w/ both my parents.) But, it¢s really interesting, this form of communication. It¢s like this constant, background, extended conversation. Sort of like, rather than sitting down over dinner and having a long talk, we instead meet once or twice a week, over tea and crumpets, and have a little snippet of conversation, then, a few days later, another small parcel of conversation. The dynamic and tone of a letter is different, too, from oral conversation. It¢s easier to discuss certain things through writing, easier to express, easier to relate, easier to convey. (The reverse is equally true, of other things.)Well, to return from that rather lengthy aside -- I received a letter from Mom today. She wrote (among other things) -- ¢You are looking forward to hiking and living in the moment. Maybe that is a truly focalized method of getting and staying in the present.¢ Contradictory, that by looking to the future I¢m preparing myself to live in the present? Perhaps. But since when has life been black-and-white? It¢s true, that I¢ve been dwelling on my upcoming journey w/ increasing (and possibly unhealthy) frequency. How can I not, such a life-altering experience? I mean, in 3 weeks I¢ll be unemployed. Voluntarily. Again. But, there is a danger, in investing your mental energy so much in the future -- you can neglect the present. Mom summed it up so articulately -- ¢The trick is really to live in the present and draw on the past and dream of the future in complimentary roles that augment the reality/pleasure of living in the present.¢