I slept well last night for the first time in a few days - I thought I was catching a cold, but it turns out I think I was just really tired. I've got a lot on my mind lately, and as I was telling A. Last night, it all seems to tie into thoughts of mortality. Sara-paule's father dieing in front of me, Ben having to fly back to his ailing father, the end of mine and A's relationship, the end of Todd and Sarah's relationship, the changing seasons. Of course all these things are inevitable - it's just that usually that ongoing little thread of mortality sits comfortably in the background of everyday life. I guess that it's naive to think that it is every anywhere but right infront of me, but regardless I'm a little worried lately. Worried not that I'm going to die, but, I guess - how, when - what circumstances.
But then I take a deep breath and pause for a bit, enjoy a bite of something tasty, a lovely piece of music (Trad Gras Och Stenar) read some lovely words that give me that indescribable sensation of time, place and understanding. Share a moment with someone, who like me, understands the breakdown of true communication, but is willing to try all the same. - Anything really and it floats away - I keep thinking of the book I'm reading "The Rings of Saturn" and it's author's descriptions of the annihilation of memory and time. Or the wife in White Noise, who had a paralyzing fear of death - it's very real to me, sometimes it's almost to much for me to handle, but it fades, quickly and suddenly when life butts it's way back into my mind.
One thought, I keep coming back to was from the other night at the Sea Monster Pot-Luck, before our show at the Metronome, me and JB were talking to Mandy and Greg, about how crazy our mother's were - mine, being only mildly to JB and Mandy's very. And for some reason or other (maybe cause I can't keep any of my concerns and thoughts down when I'm drinking.) I ended up talking to Mandy a bit about building Eric's Coffin... And that led into a discussion of Green Wican's ( I might be wrong on this name...) which if you understand the ideas of "Greens" and of wicans, you can kind of put it together and you'll be right. Anyway, she just told me something about seeing human life as you would any other thing in nature, that instead of dying, and being born, you come up, and go down.
Simple concept, very obvious indeed, I'm aware of that. But maybe it was my heightened state of excitement, or just hearing it from someone who believes it, but I've been thinking about it this past long weekend.
I think often what hurts the most when one falls into a contemplative state reguarding our own mortality, is the fear of everything you do being meaningless, it hurts the Ego i suppose - but then if nothing escapes, no matter how grand the endeavor, how beautiful the painting, how touching the lyric, what is their to concern youself with but these moments, reguardless of their triviality.
And since the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a man is to tell him he is at the end of his nature, Browne scrutinizes that which escapes annihilation for any sign of the mysterious capacity for transmigration he has so often observed in caterpillars and moths. That purple piece of silk he refers to, then, in the urn of Patroclus - what does it mean?