Bad Dreams Considered

All dreams of you are good, in a way, little sweetheart, even the more difficult ones, because they signal your presence. Some are truly transcendent - you and I are together and all is well - others more disquieting. 

What I remember upon waking this morning was simply speaking of you, telling someone that your loss was more than I could bear and that I would never recover. While that is certainly true, in way I also welcome the all-too-familiar feeling of grief because it actually brings your spirit near. It tells me that you are hovering to remind me, refocus me, get me back on track. 

I'll take all of it, my little sweetheart, even the painful parts, knowing that you come with them. As long as you draw near, there's always comfort in that. 

With all my love forever.

I Hear You Call to Me

A starling high above the fray, 

Perched atop the highest light post, 

A sentinel, he sings so brightly I scan the horizon looking everywhere until I find him. 

His message, at last, is heard. 

One only needs to pause, give over, heed his very real and truthful call. 

Thank god, I do. 

Thank god for you because I know it is you who had sent him. 

"Table of Silence"

Little sweetheart, it’s been so hot today, I couldn’t bring myself to go out. I’ve been very light with using a/c this year but a couple of times when it’s been this hot, I’ve finally given over.

I really wanted to get out for a walk at some point, though, so I waiting until dusk and then headed west and north. It was dark by the time I was heading home and I decided to walk through Lincoln Center, where I saw the most amazing event unfolding. I asked one of the security guards what was happening and he said that it was a rehearsal for a performance that was going to be staged here on Monday, which is 9/11.

It is almost impossible to describe little sweetheart but I’ll try. All around the fountain were two or three circles of white-robed dancers - there must’ve been over a hundred of them - in simple uniform motion. Farther removed at the border of the plaza were two guys with huge kettle drums like they have in an orchestra playing in a steady almost mournful rhythm. And at another remove were a trumpeter, a saxophonist, a violinist and three women with megaphones. Much of the performance was in silence but parts of it were punctuated with sound including these musicians and the dancers themselves who sometimes take up a wordless chant. 

There was a moment where they seemed to pause for a break, for some words from the director while staying in formation and I found a woman with a headset I took to be a stage manager.  I asked her about the performance and she told me that it was a piece called “Table of Silence” that had been created in 2011 to observe 9/11 and that they would be performing it right here at 8am on Monday. That it was free to attend and would also be live streamed. I’m definitely going to watch that, little sweetheart and will leave a link to it right here.

It was absolutely mesmerizing and terribly moving. And although it’s meant to be performed in the early light of morning there was something incredibly special about seeing in at night. I’m so glad I happened by it! And to top it off, as I walked home I could see that they had lit the twin beams downtown, as they do every year around 9/11 to commemorate and remember where the towers once stood.

Thinking of you, as ever. With all my love.