Somewhat conceited entry follows:
I went to a barbecue tonight attended by a group of fairly geeky people I’d never met before. All of them were friends with one another. One of their number was the “legendary” guy who had “almost scored a 700” on one section of his GRE. In fact, I heard all about his GRE scores. My scores (yes, the ones I’m not quite satisfied with because I didn’t have enough preparation) utterly dwarf his… but I never let on. His performance was mentioned again and again throughout the evening… and all the while, I secretly smiled… listening without saying a word. Oh, the humanity!
This is an excellent lesson in why humility is a good thing. You never know when someone is secretly thinking you are an imbecile. Of course, this entry is, by its very nature, not humble at all, so I am not taking my own advice in the least.
(This is an excellent lesson in why discussions of lessons learned are utter crap: lessons are never really learned, only rubbed a little in vain like Aladdin’s lamp and then tossed aside.)
But everything I’ve said so far is just nonsense — me trying to avoid saying what really must be said… and what must be said is this:
Sometimes, in the middle of winter, in the dead of night, the black cold can be striking indeed. There are moments — the most important moments in life even — when you are alone with your breath; it hangs in the air in front of you, immutable and ageless as the seconds invisibly and inaudibly grind to a halt. For what seems like an eternity, you look straight ahead into the next minute, the next hour, the next month, the next year, frozen and aware… and you realize…
…at this moment, there remains nothing to be said and nothing to be done; it is out of your hands — the movement of life ahead is simple and direct: unapoligetically, mercilessly toward the future, without compromise — without pause. Loves and hates don’t matter; they are not yours to control.
Tonight I have had one of these moments. There is nothing to do but press on — press on.