Somehow, it is May 16, 2019.
May 16 already.
Ten days ago, my cousin would have turned 38. His beagle, who is now my beagle, is whining in his crate. Beagles, if you don’t know, are beautiful and complicated and a little bit of mess. Beagles are like people when it all comes right down to it.
Last week I had a dream about my cousin. We were driving and catching up. We both knew that he had died. “Yeah,” I said, “but tell me. What’s it like?” I was pointing to the sky. I felt bad for asking, like I was violating some secret. It’s not that I needed certainty, but here I was, staring at it. Here I was, staring at Easter.
“Yeah,” I said, “but tell me. What’s it like?”
“You can’t even begin to imagine,” he said.
“Good,” I can picture myself saying. “Good,” I said. “I thought so.”
I was at a reception last night for an organization I care a lot about (I also serve on the Board). It was a great community event, and it reminded me, again, that no matter how good it is to be in the flow of the creative process, it’s also good to just be out in public. People often say, “it’s good to see you,” and sometimes we say back “it’s good to be seen.” That’s not just a cliche. It’s true. It is good to be seen. And it’s good to see.
Like everyone else, I balance a lot of demands. In some ways, I’ve been trying to slow my life down. It doesn’t always work.
Two people shared very kind, unsolicited thoughts about my writing and my life in general in the course of conversation. They know who they are, and I thank them here again.
As one of them might remind me, with respect to Leonard Cohen, don’t fret about your cracks. That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in