Arvo Pärt at 36,000 ft.
The voices of the strings weave
Through the air, rise and fall, play
Against each other.
Outside, the clouds
Mingle and separate, fall away
Beneath us, behind us.
Just as time
And music fade
To live without expectation,
The future as a blank slate,
To engage with what comes
As it comes
In its own time.
Trying to imagine that.
Knowing that we expect the future
To resemble the past.
The batter looking for a fastball
Doesn’t recognize the change up, and swings through it, surprised.
The point where the patterns intersect,
The point where the patterns disperse,
Here the mind is free to play.
Fullness and emptiness have the same rules.
Your plans cannot escape these rules, or contain them.
This is the first rule.
It doesn’t matter that you don’t acknowledge the rules.
This is the second rule.
I never expect the face in the mirror.
Recognize it, of course. Know it’s mine.
But it surprises me every time
Like a note played off key
Or an off-speed pitch.
The difference between knowledge and expectation:
We all know we will die. And yet death arrives unexpected.
The number of times I watched my father’s head
Move through shades of red and purple
As he coughed at the dinner table, then lit a cigarette.
And yet it was years later, and something else entirely.
I watched him slip quietly into Silentium, all the machines switched off.
I was utterly unprepared.