Agnus Dei

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.

In the Mood for Love

[diary] 071023

The phone rings. It is a simple melody that always triggers a sense of nostalgia in me. Only one person can ring me up that way, and when it rings, I grab the phone and walk outside without excusing myself. To the voice on the other end, I offer a vague explanation for the uncharacteristically cheerful air about my voice. But the real reason, which I am too shy to admit, is to hear that voice that follows this pretty song, the voice I miss evermore.

...and on they go waiting

Estragon: I can’t go on like this.

Vladimir: That’s what you think. Well? Shall we go?

Estragon: Yes, let's go.

What would Didi and Gogo do if they were to stop waiting for Godot? Would they actually leave? Would they really hang themselves? Is it even an option to stop waiting?

Caspar David Friedrich, Two Men Contemplating the Moon, 1819

Caspar David Friedrich, Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon, 1824

Marathon? Really?!

I hated running as a child. In fact, I hated any kind of physical activity whatsoever, but running was the worst. "Chasing after a butterfly" was how my family described my attempt at running, and if the neighborhood kids I was playing with started to run, I would stand still and, eventually, cry. Although it turned out later that I was not without any athletic bone in my body, the act of running still remained something to be dreaded.

The year I turned twenty-five, I had many reasons to frequent the hospital. Aside from the now chronic gastrointestinal problems, a benign tumor the size of my fist was found and had to be removed. As I was waking up after the four-hour surgery, the television happened to be showing a marathon and I said to my sister, "I'm going to do that when I get better." I'm not sure whether it was the influence of the anesthesia that made me say this, or if it was my new found determination for a healthier life, but it did lead to a resolution to participate in the marathon before turning thirty. A year after another year passed by, however, and even the thirtieth year of my life passed. And I gave up on the marathon.

* * * * *

Just couple of weeks ago, a coworker of mine was talking about her completion of the marathon. In passing, I mentioned that it had once been my goal. A few days later, she approached and asked me if I wanted to participate in the next marathon, that she is getting a group together. It came unexpectedly, and I was not sure. Could I really finish a marathon? Do I have the discipline or the endurance? Am I, or will I ever be physically fit enough? I didn't have the answers, but I found myself signing up.

This morning was the first training. It was my first time leaving the house--or opening its front door--on a Saturday in a very long time (when that last time was, I had forgotten long ago). Along the beach of my favorite drive course we met, all three of us and a dog. The air was cold but the sun was beautiful, and we ran and walked, then ran some more. Before we knew it, we had come rather far, and by the time we were back where we started from, it must have been at least four or five miles. Not too bad for a first run in a whole year.

It was never my intention to run all 26.2 miles. The game plan is to run a mile, then walk a mile. And I think I can do it if all goes as this morning...but first, I should make sure my muscles are responsive come tomorrow.

Sleep

Excerpt from Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World:

I thought about rain myself. A mist so fine, it almost wasn't rain. Falling, ever fair, ever equal, it gradually covered my consciousness in a filmy, colorless curtain.

Sleep had come.

Now I could reclaim all I'd lost. What's lost never perishes. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to sleep.

Bob Dylan was sing A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall, over and over.