I slept in this morning, making up for my lack of sufficient rest over the last few days. I started the day, after getting dressed etc., with walking the dogs. At the end of our street, or rather across the street at the end, there was a house being torn down by a massive tractor type of machine. I'm not entirely sure why, but it made me stop and stare for several moments as the clawed bucket bit into the walls and ripped out pieces, turning it into more rubble for which the machine could sit on. I was both intrigued and saddened by this. I have no connection or knowledge of that house yet perhaps in my subconscious, it was a metaphor for something larger. It brought to my mind something I read in a novel about a Buddhist belief that everything which is brought together will, in time, fall apart.
I don't think this particular idea is only to be found in Buddhism, since there is the Christian equivilant, "From dust ye are, and unto dust ye shall return." But perhaps it is better said and summarized in their way, or maybe it is a new way for me which drives the point home anew. Either way, the ultimate mortality of everything earthly "hit home."
But, as I walked across campus in search of breakfast, the clouds finally decided to release their burden gently, and it began raining softly. Having no great desire to get wet and being in no rush, I sat down on a bench under a covered walkway and watched as the rain fell softly between the buildings and oak trees. It was one of those simple yet beautiful events, happening entirely by chance, or by God's unknowable design.
I was reminded both of the fact that everything comes to an end (that can be seen), and of the beauty of Creation. I suppose that there must be a certain balance between realization of mortality and cherishing the beauty of the moment. There is always a silver lining, and the rain stopped after a few minutes. I arose from my bench and continued on my search for sustinance, greeting the postal worker I passed.
It is my rather unfortunate habit to say "morning" instead of "good morning" and my habit came through when I greeted Senor Silencio, as I will call him, as I gave my one-worded greeting. He stoically continued on past me without a word, but still I smiled to myself, strangely feeling pleased at greeting a total stranger. It is possible that he will remember me and be compelled to greet another stranger in turn, and maybe his day will be a bit brightened. Or maybe he'll just forget me and continue bearing his burden silently as he makes his rounds.
When I arrived at the street corner near the baker which had been my second destination (after the University cafeteria), I impulsively crossed the busy street ahead of me as the traffic broke momentarily. I decided to head for a small cozy coffeehouse, though I had no intention of actually drinking coffee. That isn't the point though, just background detail really. As I crossed the rain-slick street (which was Montrose), with my journal in hand, I was reminded of the often wet streets of London and smiled, having found a piece of that place and time here.
One day, I will forget my trip to the UK, along with everything else if I am fortunate enough to survive into senile old age, but in the meantime, I will enjoy many more rainy days broken by moments of sunlight. I will live the hell out of life, cherishing and experiencing much. I don't know how yet, but somehow, I will grab the bull that is life by the horns and wrestle it to the proverbial ground. Then, someday, this thing which is my body will dissolve like snow, and the part which is truly "me" will go home. And that's quite alright, because I will do more than just survive during my time here on earth; I will live strongly, love passionately, and laugh heartily.
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