Beware the Ides have Passed

As I opened the window this morning to let a draft of sun penetrate my room, a pink cigarette stub slid off my fire escape and landed on my keyboard, balancing on an E flat. I was on my way to work, and yet, couldn't help but pause to watch as it swayed to and fro. A slight puff of air changed C minor to C major and back again. It's that continued balance that we try to strike in life. While our daily notes are the same...we are always on the edge.

What's yours is yours and what's mine is also yours...that's what we are taught to aspire to. Does that apply to everything. Is my stress now your stress? Are my burdens now your burdens? Or is it a law of righteous convenience? Do we only share the good things or do we share them all? Where do we strike the balance between admiration and alienation?

I decided to stay at my mother's house tonight. It isn't because the city is far away and I'm too tired to stay awake on the subway. It isn't because my roommate and I don't talk anymore. It isn't because the fridge is full or because the heat is working or because deep down I'm still a kid and no one sees it. It's because I want to be in the presence of someone I admire. I want to be reminded that there are some successes where kindness isn't a casualty.

Balance is a tricky thing. When you grow up too fast, swallow life whole, and speed through the moments that are worth remembering, you might require a periodic smile transplant. I've fallen in love with the way tulips stretch their blossoms to the sky, the way foam rises when the waves come in... I've fallen in love with the way a room full of children falls silent when they feel something for the first time, the way notes sound when there's a bit of God in them, the way holy lands become tangible when you call them your own. I've fallen in love with how fallible we are alone. I've fallen in love with how comforting it is to be fallible together.

It's the beauty of New York...you know...how ephemeral things are. You shut your eyes and open them to see that the season has changed, that your pigtails have been unbraided, that the archeologist that became a mathematician that became a pianist that became a singer that became a Jew that became a conductor never learned to administrate and wishes someone were willing to pause and teach her how to sit still.

In the meantime, the short espresso will do. It's bitter, but that's reality and I'll take it with sugar for now.