i'm watching a tv show right now. the main character walks into a church and for a split second the vaulted ceiling of the church is in view. the ceiling is an unexpected periwinkle blue and i think to myself, this is perfect.
moments of perfection are little gems granted to us (or better: available for us to grasp, which adds an active dimension to it, one i feel more comfortable with since i don't believe there is anyone or anything out there to do the granting) and when we step inside them, they are a way out of the mundane, the dull, the grey.
i once talked to a patient whose husband was slowly and inexorably dying of cancer. we talked of living in the moment and she said that in the end, she doesn't believe we, as regular average human beings, are able to maintain that sort of existence for more than a few minutes at a time. i don't know if she was right or wrong; i know that i can't maintain it longer than those fleeting moments. these perfect moments, perfectly lit by the evening sun; perfectly captured by the song ideally suited to the time and place; perfectly coloured in a way that stops my breath just for a second, they are a taste of what it would be like to fully be present in all that life has on offer. but we hurry along, we run, plunge headfirst into life, buzz in and out of sensations, thoughts and feelings, hurtling through to the end.
so yes, a little bit of philosophy courtesy of HBO.
and yes, i realise i haven't exactly been present on here lately. it just feels like one more thing to add to my ever growing to-do list, and i don't like to lose the pleasure in the writing. i promise to try, though. truly.