There's a word in Sanskrit quoted by Eliot at the end of 'The Wasteland' like a benediction. 'Shantih' is roughly translated as 'the peace that passes understanding.' My emotions have been all over the place today, frustration and anger, helpless resignation, slap-happy laughter (deemed verboten by the overlords, but breaks forth nonetheless), thankful for the grace of God, the blessings of caffeine and art and friendship. I've been through way more than this in the past year, and I'll go through way more again.
I can go home to the sanctuary of my second floor, I can pull the weeds growing among my flowers, pound and sculpt and cut clay, drink tea and write, scrawl out prayers and fragments of psalms on canvas in sharpie marker, visit my new nephew and feel my heart melt over and over. A little stress and catharsis every once in awhile makes me a better person, gives me the spark. Maybe someday I will create beauty such as this.
Unlike the bestselling writers and TV preachers, I don't expect that faith will bring a person a life of material wealth or bliss. I don't deserve a thing, and yet I have more in the intangible than could be explained. I can't control what others say or do, I don't see the need to apologize for things that I haven't done wrong, and to paraphrase a song from an old band I love "I'm working, but I'm not working for you."
Who needs to jockey for position when there's so much else to live for? I hope that when I am old, I won't be jealous of the young, I won't be meddling in what's none of my business, I won't be grabbing all I can while the getting's good.
And there is celebrating a friend's wedding this weekend, getting my rust belt kicks with 'Michael Stanley Superstar', and being away from this opera if not forevermore, for a little while.