For the past two days, I’ve listened to Dvorák’s Symphony No. 9 at night. I never fall asleep until the whole thing is over. The most commonly heard phrase from the music–specifically from Largo, the second movement of the piece–I learned to play ages ago on the piano. The Symphony is a comfort.
Symphony No. 9, “From the New World”.
The New World; a specific destination. A place unknown. New. The promise of a first time. Perhaps a second chance. Third time’s the charm.
How many times can you leave and come back?
Curious and with caution, we step off.
I want to quit the trip. All week, a nagging sensation has tugged at my belly. Find a place. Get a dog. Settle in. Wrap yourself in blankets, put thick socks on your feet, and stay inside.
I have never felt so naked. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I wanted to tell you that.
I want you, reader, to know that this trip is precious and precarious and I will not end it here.
Is it the season? Is it the times?
I think I’ve been writing to the bottom of the same feeling for a long time. You could call it a theme.
A long time is silly to say. I’m 24, for God’s sake! I’m young and privileged and stupid. What do I have to be upset about?
What do we have but the earth beneath our feet? What is there but forward motion? What do we have? What can we claim?
Even Columbus was lost and couldn’t admit it.
I don’t know if I want a second chance or if I’m running or if I’m learning or if I’m totally fine.
Love the thing that you are. I wrote a note at 1am last night on the train home. Love the thing that you are, it says. Love the thing that houses you. You don’t get another shot. You don’t get another chance. We can’t remake, replace, revise the bones and marrow, the blood and capillaries. Do not raze your body to the ground.
I have never been so naked.
In brief, I’m curious. How do you feel, reader? How do you cope with the shifts, the season, the questions that bubble up but never over? I want to know about you.
This isn’t a post about travel. This isn’t much of a post at all. Hi there. I’ve lost sight of the Thing, whatever it ever was, and I’m looking to you.
There are many ways to reach me. I am grateful for you.
I love you, I miss you, I hope to see you soon.