If something small is capable of bringing you happiness – let it. Be in that moment, imagining this little joy can fill you up. Allow it to matter.
Don’t dismiss it as meaningless, trivial, or not enough. It is enough for this present, and doesn’t need to be more. The next moments will bring their own meaning – their own sorrows and joys – and you will be able to handle them when they come, but not before.
You are so brave
Every time you get up in the morning
With the ache behind your eyes
And that worthless numbness feeling
As you open the blinds
There is something so beautiful and small about feeding the birds. I paused on my walk through the woods and stretched out my hand. In the distance, both in front and behind, the sound of children’s laughter and crunching of crisp snow echoed along the otherwise secluded path.
I raised my hand a little higher. The little black seeds stood out against my open palm, an offering extended freely. The sun filtered through the spindly branches and cast shadows: those little strips of light were painting the snow. I looked up.
The voice it spoke
in certainties too hard
to be denied
and yet the line
dividing true / untrue
becomes a little thing
when fear obscures
What is the value of wonder?
This is something I have been reflecting on lately, and the idea was brought into sharper focus when I was running along my usual route. The path beside the water was dappled with winter – there were icy patches in the pavement cracks and streaks of frost on the grass. But the landscape was not yet consumed by winter’s silence: it was still alive and visible beneath this surface layer of cold and snow. The water was also not subdued: it moved with great freedom, waves that rolled in sharpened wind.
Knowledge and power:
The words that would
supply us with lies
about what it means to be human
Telling us the things we should
reach out, to hold, to have
To succeed and to live
The good life
is to follow the logic of more
To do and to take
To give and to make
And in the good work
that is measured above
is found the good life
that is foreign to love
Fog rolling low
Blankets the sea
There is no beyond
Descending on the water Read more
Warning: This review contains some spoilers, so only read on if you have already seen the movie, or don’t mind finding out some revelations of the plot.
Science fiction is not a genre with which I have much familiarity, and for the most part I avoid it in favour of other movies. Arrival, however, defied both my expectations and what I thought of before as typical conventions, and I think of it now as a film universal in its scope and its reach. This film could be described in so many ways, since the number of its themes continues to expand the longer I reflect. But to me, I think of Arrival most of all as a beautifully filmed meditation on life, on language and on unity.
I suppose that doesn’t really help in narrowing it down, so I’ll try to be a little more specific. The movie follows a linguistics professor, Louise, (played by Amy Adams) at a time of great global upheaval, after a series of spacecraft have landed at various locations around the world. Louise is tasked with decoding the language of these alien creatures aboard the spacecraft; they communicate, however, through symbols rather than through the spoken word. Over the course of the film, a number of flashbacks are interwoven amid the narrative, which are eventually revealed to be flashforwards, reflecting in a mysterious way the nonlinearity of time as experienced by the aliens and, through their intervention, by Louise as well. These short vignettes of Louise’s future life with her daughter were beautiful glimpses of the ordinariness of life, in which the surrounding sounds of nature were crisp and clear, and infused with peace.
I have been recently reflecting on the “heroes” who have appeared throughout my life as significant influences. Some of these figures are far removed by distance and time, such as great saints and writers. However, there are other people in my life for whom the appellation of “hero” might seem misplaced or exaggerated, since we both live in the same time and there is not a legacy to speak of in the same way. A better word to use, perhaps, would be “inspiration,” and this label is frequently applicable to people I encounter in my everyday life, even if based only on one particular interaction during which a person behaved in an inspirational way.
What I want to reflect on in this post is what attitude we should adopt when faced with inspirations, in any sense of the word, whether they be a hero of great fame and repute, or an acquaintance we talk to briefly at a party. I think that there is both a negative mode of response and a positive mode of response, and which one we choose has great impact regarding our ability to stretch beyond ourselves and grow in the direction of whatever has inspired us.
La La Land has recently enjoyed great critical success with its dominant performance at the Golden Globes. In my opinion, this movie deserves every form of recognition it receives. The film was not only visually and musically dazzling, but also dealt deeply with its themes of artistry and integrity.
When it comes to musicals, I feel that the general population is divided into two camps: one which expresses excitement and delight at the prospect of bursting into song, and the other which is more inclined to roll their eyes and complain about an excess of cheese splattered across all the musical numbers. Although I tend to fall into the former group, I can certainly see why many musicals have earned the label of “cheesy,” and why they might not be seen as serious films.
I think that La La Land, however, accomplishes an impressive feat, in that it delivers fun and abundant joy to its audience, while still feeling organic and retaining its seriousness. I think it could even be said that La La Land has revived or is in the process of reviving the movie-musical genre. And it does so by reaching into the past. Throughout, the film pays tribute to classic musicals, including a couple of scenes that seemed to me directly reminiscent of Singin’ in the Rain. As well, this focus on the past is present in the interests of the two main characters, beautifully embodied by Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. Stone plays an aspiring actress with an appreciation for classic films like Casablanca. Gosling, on the other hand, is a jazz pianist inspired by the “greats,” rather than the novelty and artificiality of synthesized music. The whole movie is also infused with the feel of Old Hollywood, from the choreography to the costumes and sets.