Lakshman

Diwali started yesterday. I got a care package filled with New Year's treats. You could see the grease bleeding through the FedEx box. I know it sounds gross, but it's ghee not oil... and it's oh so delicious.

Perhaps it is another form of homesickness, or the realization that for all practical purposes I am now my own man, but I now, more than ever, long for the sense of family I left back in Texas. None of this is really actionable. Strangers are still strangers, and I still have my family. But this is different. It's bigger than finding someone. It's bigger than changing geographies. It's about duty.

Which brings me to the story of Lakshman. He was my favorite character from the Hindu epics as a child. He was quiet, resolute, and so loyal to his brother that he would not allow Ram to go into exile alone. One could call it irony, but there is no comedy in Lakshman's desire to be "a pillar" to a man, an avatar really, who had no real need for the strength of others. That, my friends, is devotion.

I'll admit that it has been a decade since I've read any scripture or attended a Sunday service, so I'm reading analysis on Lakshman at various websites. I find it funny that almost every description characterizes Lakshman's feelings toward Ram as one of love. The comedy lies in that having grown up in an Indian household, I didn't grow up giving hugs or telling my folks I loved them. Shit... people fall out of love. They love things. Hell, they love things more than they love people. They love feelings and they love themselves. How I feel is stronger than that, and calling it love feels like it cheapens it.

I'm not sure if there's a word to describe the intersection of love and duty, or if language even has the capacity to convey the meaning of something that can only been seen through action and over a sufficiently long time-frame. But I do miss feeling this on a daily basis. I miss not feeling like I have to prove it through words or arbitrary gestures. But I digress.

This is what I've always admired about Lakshman. And in this new year, and all the contemplation and celebration that comes with it, I feel a renewed sense of duty.

Happy Diwali!

A Skin Too Few

I can't remember exactly when I first discovered Nick Drake, although I remember the moment itself with startling clarity (does this happen to you?). I was sitting in an uncomfortably packed bedroom with some friends listening to music when out of nowhere came this sound I'd never heard before... guitar playing so clear, intricate, and fast that it sounds messy and a voice so heavy, so melancholy that you can't bear to resist, nay willingly, hand over your hope.

Anyway... apparently they filmed a documentary in 2000 on the life and family of Nick Drake. A few things about his life really stuck with me.

His mother used to write songs of her own. Based on the old tape recording his sister plays, you can hear the influence on his melodies... they're eerily similar.

Nick was all about impact and influence. The interviews with his friends, family, and studio reps shed some light on his depression. It was pretty widely known among those with whom he kept close company that the man was brilliant and full of natural talent. Yet, it was the ability to touch wide audiences with his music that he sought. I guess this is pretty typical among musicians, but it felt a lot more geniune and like a much greater struggle coming out of Nick Drake than it does coming out of Yellowcard or JLo. I'm just sayin', I spent a long period of of my life valuing brilliance over influence, and if I had just one to share with the world, I wouldn't be saddenned by my lacking the other. But what do I know? I guess my point is that it's ironic and a bit surpising to hear that a lack wide spread influnce is what drove such a talented person to clinical depression and ultimately over the edge.

The last thing, and one of the last scenes in the film, is the recitation by Nick's sister of a poem his mother wrote about him after his death. It's titled The Shell

The Shell

Living grows round us, like a skin, to shut away the outer desolation.

For if we clearly mark the outer deep,we should we be dead long years before the grave.

But turning around in the homely shell of worry, discontent, and narrow joy,

We glow and flourish, and rarely see the outside dark that would confound our eyes.

Some break the shell.

I think that there are those who push their fingers through the brittle walls and make a hole.

And through this cruel slit, stare out across the cinders of the world with naked eyes.

They look both out and in, knowing themselves and too much else beside.

Do you see?
I think it's available on youtube. It's titled A Skin Too Few.

Halloween '07

Halloween was pretty badass this year. Costumes are always fun, but coordinated/themed costumes are awesome. I went as the Tin Man, along with Dorothy and The Scarecrow. We found a Lion at the house party to which we went (fking Churchill criticizing my grammar from the afterlife). Mario & Luigi, Link & Zelda, Priest & Altar Boy, Itachi (custom contacts and all) & Sasuke, and The Ghostbusters were all in attendance. Despite being a house party, it wasn’t over crowded or too hot, and I got just wasted enough.

I guess that’s really all I have to say about that.

Today there were tons and tons of children, surprisingly mostly under the age of 6, around the office (with their parents of course). There were miniature ninjas, frogs, lions, dinosaurs, tigers, raccoons, and pumpkins all over the place. I left the candy in a chair outside the office and put on the headphones so I could get things done, but headphones couldn’t stop them. For example, I was interrupted by Superman wandering into my office and shoving me until he got my attention. Later, some high school kids were just flying through the halls collecting candy in their pillowcases. All of these shenanigans were set right by my very last visitors. By this point in the evening, almost everyone had cleared out of the building. A mother, an auntie really, stopped by with her two daughters. I can’t remember what the older one was dressed as, but she wasn’t collecting candy, she was collecting change for UNICEF. Badass. The younger one couldn’t have been older than two. She was dressed as a pumpkin, and insisted on trading a hand-melted MilkyWay (packing completely intact) for the last bag of M&M’s. She whined and pouted until the trade was complete. I was moved.

I had to work till 11 to finish everything I was supposed to finish during the day. I was not so moved.