It’s the weekend. But when you are self-employed (barely – as in, some days barely a self and most days oh so barely employed) as a writer, when the inspiration flows, you have to capture it. Having had lots of days when the inspiration was being coy and thus having had to sweat-discipline myself to toil using what passes as “technique” – I totally welcome and bless these days when things just seem to be clicking – the ideas and the keyboard.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from checking all my news feeds and and Pinterest and Facebook (have you liked me, yet?) and Twitter and Tumblr-sites and fellow bloggers. And this morning brought me a few insights and chuckles and think-prompts. Morsels from the virtual-world zeitgeist, the first of which fits right in with this theme of “inspiration versus perspiration” and so, here you are: Zeit-bites Saturday.
Here’s Harry Houdini, chained, upside down in a water torture chamber in 1912. The thing is, sometimes when it appears that we are trapped, underwater, unable to breathe, it’s a good thing to remind ourselves that it’s just a trick. We’re all magicians and whatever seems to be going on in our lives, whatever apparently inescapably dire situations in which we find ourselves; we have the key somewhere. Stay calm, it’s just an illusion, and even more important to remember, we are the ones who agreed to and made the illusion: we can un-make it too.
Which brings me to this glorious quote from E.M.Forster’s “A Room With A View.”
“It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.”
Amen, right? I have spent not a little time contemplating the “why” of love and feeling trapped, upside down, chained, bound, unable to escape and dangerously out of breath ; in particular, those circumstances in my life where love has been much transmuted, ignored, and oh, oh, oh, the inglorious, monumental muddling of it I have done. Few conclusions, fewer answers, but one certainty; it doesn’t end. Love is the stuff of life and once it’s been awakened and activated between two people, its energy never dissipates. It can (and will) change and it may not radiate in the wished-for shape of ever-after, but it goes on (and on and on and…) and there is no denying it. And since it cannot be denied, it must be dealt with. There is where the questions and challenges begin. But that’s too long a contemplation for a Zeit-bite, and I have to get back to my day of inspired writing.
Speaking of which, inspired is what Audra McDonald is. And she has a new CD coming out May 21. Were I better employed, I’d be ordering the limited edition, signed print. I love Ms. McDonald. LOVE HER! And of all the divas and stars and geniuses I have been blessed to see live and in person in my day, I have yet to be in the same theatre with Ms. McDonald. I hope, some day, to remedy this. In fact, I hope, some day, that one of my published books will be made into a film in which she will play a starring role. Dream big. Dream crazy.
And speaking of crazy; what would a Zeit-bites day be without some outlandishness? I am obsessed with the dissolve of Justin Bieber, though I am suspicious that his increasingly revealing Instagrams and out-there Tweet pronouncements and rumored drug-use (his tour bus was searched by the Stockholm PD and weed found) is all a ruse to transition him from teeny-bop bait to more adult territory. On the other hand, maybe he is just devolving into another sad, too-much, too-young tragedy. Who knows. I do know I feel sorry for him. While fame and fortune and adulation do, I’m sure, have their upsides, what must it be like to have been so famous, the meal-ticket of so many people, and so powerful for so long from such a young age. Houdini upside down in a water tank and me, gasping for air, underwater in a torture-chamber of unfortunate choices in love and life, are probably nothing compared to the situation in which Justin finds himself trapped – in fact, he’s a kid and been there since he was a kid, what sort of frame of reference does he even have to help him recognize the tricks he’s doing are dangerous? In any event, what does seem clear is that he’s hanging out with the wrong people, as this photo-shopped Tumblr-find so aptly illustrates. Chucky is NOT your friend, Justin!
zeit for now. Here I am . . . going. Happy Weekend.