So, New Year and all that. Like the comedy and tragedy masks of the theatre we look both ways, assess which applies to the year past, which we predict will apply to the year ahead. Our memory of the year past hangs like laundry on the line, images of the costumes we wore, the beds we soiled, soon to be dried and folded away. For our predictions for the year ahead we employ all the old tricks of the psychic, try to guess what sort of person we really are, where that will lead us.
For me 2011 hangs off time in Sydney, Portland Oregon, Melbourne, falling in love, beginning to play saxophone with some intent. Right now my life is in flux, I can't even guess what sort of person I am, where I will end up next year, with who, which instrument I'll be playing. All is uncertain. Uncertain is the way I like it. The feeling that anything could happen is exciting. Knowing what lies ahead is a personal hell for me.
We are all travelling through time and space, it doesn't feel like it, we only notice in deeply comic and deeply tragic moments, and at New Year. We are all aware that everything passes, choose to forget. It is confronting to know that all we do and say, all our lives, disappear, there is only room for the current calendar on the kitchen wall, 2011 will be in the recycling bin soon enough. Our comic, tragic trip through time and space goes on, then passes. Our memories and dreams pass too.
Play out the drama of comedy and tragedy, feel every moment, take the trip. Travel through time and space, arrive and depart, let past and future take care of themselves. Enjoy New Year for what it is, a reminder that we are travelling through time and space even if it doesn't feel like it.
Happy New Year!
Blues, Not Art by Blute-Kent Parkstreet, available for download at iTunes, all the other sites.