Feeling

My mind’s a wanderer this morning, running a zig-zag track to an unknown destination, obscured and isolated in the scrim of distance. I keep thinking about the boy who died at the Marathon on Monday, the word “peace” scribed in his learner’s hand, the face that said, “I am kind, gentle, heart-full.” And my friend Jon, who ran Boston in years past, my heart jittery with worry that he was there, that his swift limbs might be among the many obliterated in those harrowing milliseconds of abject cruelty. I and we were lucky, he did not run this year, but someone else’s Jon did, and my heart is filled with agony and hope and prayer for a lissome recovery of mind, body, and spirit.

I used to feel grateful, safe in a bubble of security. Then the outside world turned up the volume, and I couldn’t help but hear it.  People were shot pumping gas, murdered in their place of work. The hubster had a gun drawn on him just across the street, our car got stolen, and myriad neighbors  had their homes ransacked by thieves. No one is safe from the world. Accidents and incidents happen; aeroplanes fall from the sky; guns are fired; grocery stores are robbed; slurs are uttered; women, men, and children are harmed in every manner we can conjure.

I trip and stumble, dumbfounded at the wickedness. I cry hot tears. I hug my knees and rock away the pain. But I do not let it deter me from the love I am wont to share, from moving about in the world, from seeing the blue of the sky and green of the grass, from smiling and uttering hello, from being kind or trusting in the good nature of most. That I cannot abide.

My blogger friend Lori asked me what I thought of the Oscars.  The answer, as seen in in this slightly outdated photo of me: friends, I cried.

First, I cried at all the excitement and hope of the people in attendance, the fans waiting for a glimpse of a star.  Then of course, it was the dresses, the beautifully draped fabrics, shimmering violet, blue, red, and gold.  Then it was the winners (none of them disappointments, for once) and their heartfelt speeches.  I kept exclaiming, aloud to myself, “That’s so nice!” and “How sweet!”  Then it was the fact that a woman won best director for the first time in history yet did not make it about that but rather the film and the infinitely brave people who place themselves in harm’s way every single day, at home and abroad.  There was no shortage of tears.  Thank goodness I was alone, for a guest might not have known what to do with Little Miss Waterworks.  Heck, I’m a little weepy as I type this, in memory, and the fact that the sound track to Out of Africa is playing in the background, and that, like so much music, always gets to me.

In all honesty, I cry a lot, for all manner of reasons:  joy, kindness, love, cruelty, injustice, fear, longing, and, sometimes, I honestly couldn’t tell you why.  The tears just come.  I used to be embarrassed by this fact, which was made worse by someone exclaiming, and not in a friendly way, “You cry at the drop of a hat!”  But in his infinite love and understanding, and my great privilege, the hubster told me it was such a gift, to feel so openly and honestly.  I just can’t help myself, nor do I want to.

I am waking up, realizing this isn’t very specific to the actual Oscars, besides the crying, so a list:

* I liked the Neil Patrick Harris opener, but not because I like numbers like this, I just like him.  He’s got gusto and makes me laugh.

* Alec and Steve were a little off in the opening but came into their own.  I especially liked their hotel room scene.

* I really liked the dancing to the music of the best original score nominees.

* I liked the tribute to John Hughes, felt a little confused by the horror tribute (Jaws is horror?), and very sad when I remembered everyone who died, especially Brittany Murphy.

*As I stated earlier, for the first time I can remember, I wasn’t disappointed by any of the winners, so that was nice.