Saturday, 17 October 2009

This too shall pass

This began as a letter to someone specific. I'm sorry if it seems to begin rather abruptly.

My ears are ringing from the concert not because it was that loud, but because it resonated somewhat deeply within me. Garnet Rogers played the one song I REALLY wanted him to play and I was ever so grateful.

On my way home and there are all these kids on my bus. I just want to hug them and throttle them at the same time because they're so sweet but so flippant... it makes me wish their hearts had been broken because it would make them better people. They are so young. I wonder if I was ever like that when I was that age. Only I know I wasn't. When I was eighteen I was blank-eyed and a bit of a detached bitch because that's the only Mer who could handle it. Really, she was Sarah. Wow, that feels so alien to me now, but that was my name, my signature, for twenty-five years. But I'm not her anymore. And I was never like these vapid, bubbly children.

I had to put on my headphones and the Killers because the din of the bus was just killing my mood; this deep, giddy sense of peace. How is that possible? Deep, giddy PEACE? And yet, that is what it is. It's a deep, it's giddy, and yet it's a kind of peace.

This too shall pass.

Not the deep, giddy peace, I hope. That statement is just what is sparking the feeling. The phrase was one Anya used to use: when our parents were splitting up, when Diana was dying, when we were full of selfish relief when our mother died. She began sewing it onto these jeans I'd given her, jeans I'd bought for my first day of ninth grade, jeans that she later gave back to me, all patched up, jeans I still have and wear, from time to time.

This too shall pass.

It was in this random link Lauren sent me today; advice to David Letterman. About what, I have no idea, but it made me love the advice-giver a little more for it.

This too shall pass.

A line in one of the songs Garnet Rogers sang tonight, a song called "Here Tonight" that made me weep openly and unselfconsciously in a room full of people.

This too shall pass.

This feeling of deep, giddy peace, like all the less desirable feelings that preceded it. This too shall pass. It always does.

Right now, though, I want to savour it, because it makes me make sense. It makes everything seem obvious. It makes me feel like if the boy I like got on my bus right now, I'd know exactly what to say to fix things. It's as though, for a little while, I get to transcend normal existence and I get a taste, a feel, for something richer, something more complex, something that is at once perfectly tangible and utterly ineffable.

This feeling makes me want to dance around my rooom, and sing at the top of my lungs, and kiss someone unbelievable for the first time; it makes me want to laugh and weep and take over the world. So, I savour it. I try to make it last, because I know all too well that this too shall pass. It always does. Everything does.


Val said...

After a week with grieving people in Tulsa, I know that this too shall pass, but I also know that the deep kind of peace we look for is attainable and can just doesn't seem like it at times.

This was a post I so needed to read - thanks, sweetie!

mer said...

@val - All my lovelovelove.