Shadow and Light - reflections on The Great Gatsby

I couldn’t sleep this morning, and after staring at the ceiling for awhile decided to get up and put the kettle on, pour a mug of hot tea, and write about what is on my mind.

I went to the theatre last evening and watched the film “The Great Gatsby,” a piece that takes place amidst the northeast metropolitan society of 1922.

Having never read the original novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, I went into the story not knowing anything about the characters. What I found was a straightforward narrative told from the first person view of Nicholas “Nick” Carraway, a recent college graduate, about himself and Jay Gatsby, a young self-made entrepreneur with a rare awareness of life, who became neighbors and formed a strong bond as they navigated society and the world around them. There was also a primary female character, Nick’s cousin Daisy, a beautiful young socialite who had the capacity to be a graceful, strong woman, but who had developed a warped view of the world.

Nick started out with a dream to be a writer, but then got sidetracked by a life he thought he wanted seeking wealth, and got caught up in the lives of those around him, dazzled by the false-light of bloated living and the shiny facade of decadence that thinly veiled the other side of the coin on which existed the shadowed corners of lives lived in secret.

Gatsby was an ever hopeful glass half-full entrepreneur, who was born into a very poor family and fought to achieve everything by tenacity and hard work; he had survived poverty, and war, and become a self made man of wealth and achievement; he had developed a reputation for giving lavish parties every week for whoever would come, and hundreds of strangers would show up to his house to be entertained; yet he was quiet and withdrawn and rarely came out to greet them or show up in public.

Nick, fresh out of college and with a new job selling bonds in the city, moved into a tiny old gardener’s cottage situated in between the lavish properties of the wealthy in a small village area on Long Island, which was across the bay from his cousin Daisy’s grand home, and consequently, next door to the great house that Gatsby lived in. As the story unfolded, Nick learned that Gatsby had met Daisy five years before when he was in the army, and they had been in love; but then Gatsby was sent overseas during World War I, and when he came back, he wanted to make his fortune before offering her a life with him. But she did not wait long; she fell for Thomas “Tom” Buchanan, a dishonest man from old money, a sportsman who dazzled her with wealth and a voracious appetite for conquering life at any cost.

Just after moving in, Nick meets Gatsby by attending one of his parties; as he gets to know him, Nick learns that Gatsby is still in love with Daisy and that she has no idea he lives across the bay from her. Everything he had acquired – his property, cars, clothes, the parties – he didn’t care about any of it. He bought the lavish property just so he could be near her. He had only given the parties in hopes that she would attend. He had endlessly striven to secure a fortune so he would feel he was enough for her. Everything within the five years between their last parting and the present moment was done in hopes that he would be reunited with her and all would be as before. But she had changed. He loved her to the point of distraction, or an idea of her, not realizing that she had shifted deep inside and become infected with the same silent sickness of selfishness and mediocrity that lived in those she surrounded herself with. She had become too shallow, living a life two inches below the surface while he beckoned for her to come out to the deeper waters; but she would not go, and ultimately chose not to see, not to hear, and to become blind to a deeper understanding of what life and love are really about, and devastating consequences ensued.

There is a scene that stood out to me, where Nick, after a wild party in the city, disheveled and disquieted, looked out from the apartment he was at onto to the windows of other apartment buildings around him, thinking about all the different people living behind the glassed panes. He imagined that a naïve version of himself, the way that he was in the beginning, was looking up from the sidewalk onto those same windows. As he stood there he thought to himself, “I was within, and without,” realizing the conflict that he was feeling over his current life, and what he had seen and experienced in recent days through the troubled lives of those around him. I understood what he meant. It is the realization that “all that glitters is not gold” (William Shakespeare); it is the moment when something inside of us switches on, and we realize that something is wrong with the picture we find ourselves in, and the image begins to show cracks, exposing the illusion behind the magic trick.

Yes, this is a film. These are not real characters. But the writer of the original novel that was made into this film was real, and he obviously had something to say about the perils of navigating society and human nature. This is not an old problem. These same sicknesses of the heart have been around since the beginning.

This story felt very much like a warning to me to keep the eyes clear, the ears listening intently, and to be aware and alert because the infection is all around us every day and has been since the beginning. Greed, selfishness, lies, falsity, illusions; toxicities that can only be exuded by a deeper understanding of what our lives are meant to be for.

We are all of us meant to live in the light; a light that is in us and through us and comes from something greater than ourselves; we are meant to be like prisms that refract the light into a hundred different colors that dance about everywhere we go and chase away the shadows that lurk in dark corners seeking to overtake and bring us down, like leeches waiting to latch onto our heels at any opportunity and drain the life out of us, darkening our vision and dulling our senses.

This story was about truth and illusion, shadow and light; beautifully told through the eyes of the narrator, a man who survived the epidemic and came out changed forever.

By The River

I feel like curling up in a chair with a drink and doing a bit of quiet writing today. No talking, no music; just me and my notebook.

I want to write about simple things today as I sit here, filling my notepad with scribbles, which I will transfer onto this screen and to you. Hi there.

It has been rainy here today. Right now I am sitting on a patio outside of a restaurant I go to sometimes. It is spacious and built from what looks like oak; it reminds me of looking out from a mountain cabin balcony onto the woods; there is a tin roof supported by strong beams and the space is scattered with iron tables and chairs, and servers are bustling about with a warm southern charm amongst the laughter and conversation of the patrons. Every now and then a train goes by on the track just down the road, and the warning whistle blends with the sound of the river and the restaurant ambiance, creating a small symphony of life.

I like to come here sometimes, because of this patio. It overlooks a river; at this point in the river there is a waterfall at the edge of a reservoir; there are lots of trees with branches full of tender green leaves, and you can hear the water as it cascades over the fall. There is a rope swing off in the distance, and I can’t help but smile when I think of all the people who have surely made summer memories swinging off that rope into the cool water, and of the laughter and joy that are brought on by simple pleasures.

There is something so calming about this river. It is not affected by traffic jams, or dress codes, or people’s opinions; it just is – ever flowing, ever steady.

The river is always here, yet it is also constantly changing. It is never stagnant or murky, but always being renewed with the vibrant energy of life. I feel like we understand each other, me and this river. I want to constantly refresh my life, my ideas, my energies, and my view of the world, just like this river is renewed by rain and fresh current, I want to learn new things, see new places, but also appreciate the gifts I have been given and never take them for granted.

Sure, there are wonderful, big exciting moments in life to be had, like the excitement of surging through rapids; but there are also a thousand little moments that fill in the holes in between, like watching the leaves that drop and drift on the surface of the calmer currents, creating lovely images of spring beauty as they pass gently by; these are the bits that come back to our minds in quiet times like these, reminding us of the beauty of life; they are a smile when you are sad, the sound of laughter on an overcast day, or a conversation with a friend that leaves us better off than we were before; these are the gifts that stay with us while encouraging us to change for the better, just as sure as the river ebbs and flows.

Sometimes life can be complicated, like an out of control canoe tossed about in a swift current. Sometimes I feel like I am in that canoe, trying to paddle to safety and hold on for dear life. These are the times when I can’t sleep at night and my mind is buzzing and I’m trying to figure out answers to questions I don’t even know I’m asking, and trying to explain emotions that I don’t know how to process or put into words. Sometimes we just don’t know, like clutching that paddle and feeling small and tossed about in the current without answers, and the mind spins like a compass over the Bermuda Triangle. But then I think about the things in my life that I do understand, the questions that I do know the answers to, and the gifts I have been given; I turn my thoughts to simple things, and my mind is eased.

There is a quote that I remember from a song I heard as a child that still makes me smile today. The lyrics are “If you’re worried, and you can’t sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep, and you’ll fall asleep, counting your blessings” (by Irving Berlin) - I think about this at those troubling times, and am reminded of all the gifts that I have been blessed with. I am loved and I do love; I have the ability to think, and to see, and to breathe, and to walk, and to feel, and create. I think about nature, and the owl that lives in a tree behind my house. No one tells him to fly, he just does. Nobody stands outside and coaches him on the best way to “hoo hoo” perfectly or how to catch a mouse just so. He just does it. In his own way. With grace and strength.

Being happy is not about seeing life through rose colored glasses. It is about learning how to look at it through lenses of hope, and love, and tenacity. If we strive to make things feel picture perfect, we will come crashing down, like being tossed out of that canoe, flipping over and being dragged along as we struggle to swim for shore. We don’t have all the answers. And that is ok.

I’m jotting down all these thoughts as I sit by this river, at times pausing to close my eyes and listen to the water as it falls; yes, life can be confusing, and frustrating, and sometimes make us feel crazy when we don’t know how things will turn out, but it can also be simple, and lovely, and surprise us with simple joys that leave us renewed and refreshed, like sitting in a chair on a patio by the river.

Music from Space

Music can be found in the most unlikely places.

I was so inspired when I saw a video that was posted to YouTube Sunday. International Space Station Commander Chris Hadfield, aboard the Space Station for a period of many months, sang and played the guitar to his own version of David Bowie’s song “Space Oddity.” At first I thought it may be a hoax, but then read about it online, and found out it was, in fact, really shot in space and performed by the Commander (final sound mixing done on Earth). With beautiful, majestic views of our planet in the background, Commander Hadfield performs the song on different parts of the Space Station, sometimes in front of windows looking out into space, sometimes moving about the Station; at times his guitar is seen simply floating around part of the cabin. Initially it was hard to believe this guy was actually allowed to sing and play an instrument on a Space Station, and make a recording of it to share with us; I mean, this was a serious, scientific venture taking place, why would anyone think music and creativity mattered in light of this? And yet it did. 

Let’s get real here; being artistic is often looked down on as something unimportant compared to science, law, politics, or medicine, but not so here. This performance is a beautiful reminder that art is as much a part of our lives as all of these things, and perfectly captures what this astronaut wanted to say about his time in space. It is more effective than any interview ever could be, capturing the challenges, emotions, and inspirations of being above the earth looking out onto a vast universe.

This video inspires me. It is proof that music and creativity can live just about anywhere.  

So the next time someone says to you, “listen to this song; it is out of this world,” maybe you will think a little differently than you did before. I know I will.

What an inspiration. Thank you, Commander Chris Hadfield.

 

 
To watch the video and read a news article about this, click on the link below:

 Commander Chris Hadfield sings aboard the International Space Station

I am sitting here with my notebook propped against the keyboard, my ink scribbles in front of me as I start to tap the keys. I haven't written in a little while, and was thinking of stopping, but at the encouragement of a very good friend and fellow writer, I will not stop, but continue on and see what comes out onto the page in the coming days. So, with my notebook in front of me and the keys ready to translate my ink thoughts to this screen and to yours, here I go.

There is a lot of bad in the world. But I want to write about something good today. I want to write about people who inspire, who make a difference, and who bring light into the lives of others, even when they don't realize it. It may be a teacher, a family member, significant other, a friend, or someone we don't even know who is a speaker at an event or just standing in a check-out line. These are the ones who, often when least expected, drop an idea into our mind, persuade us to change our perspective, or inspire us to change the course of our life.

I have been given this gift in my life. During a difficult time, I was reminded that I am not alone, that I am not broken; I do not need to be fixed. That I am enough, just as I am. It was during this time that a friend said to me, "I just want to be the best version of myself." Those words are burned into my mind and my heart and have changed the way I see myself. That is all any of us can do if we want to be truly happy: be the best version of ourselves. We don't have to try and be someone else, compare ourselves to an imagined idea of some kind of grandeur others may expect us to attain, or strive to fulfill false expectations that we push ourselves into, forcing ourselves into a warped existence. If a horse was convinced it should be a crocodile or a whale believed it was supposed to be a chihuahua, we would find it absurd. It is no different with us. Joy is found when we embrace our own gifts and dreams, and see our individual value, flaws and all.

Success will come and go. External beauty fades. Money and possessions are fleeting and cannot hug you when you are lonely or speak truth when you don't know what to do; what lasts are the relationships that are formed during the journey; helping us grow, inspiring us to keep trying, to keep evolving, and to see ourselves in a way we never could have on our own. This is what really matters and the only thing in life that really lasts.

I recall a quote from the play "The Curious Savage." It reads:

"Who are the fools of good heart?"

"I'd say - those who gamble on people and invest in kindness - those who doubt that position means privilege, or that manners mean morals. And, of course, the rebels with no fear of of failure."


I want to say thank you, to those who have spoken into my life and inspired me to be the best version of myself. And, to those reading this, I hope you are inspired to be thankful for those in your life that do the same for you. I hope that I am this kind of person to others in my world as well. If I can be this to someone else by my actions and my words, and bring the same joy to others as I have been given, than my life will be one that is well lived.

Sights and Sounds

I usually have my ear buds in when I am out running, and detach from everything around me, but today I decided to turn the sound down and keep an ear free. As a result, I ended up hearing and observing more than expected; a different kind of music and all kinds of little stories all around, just waiting to be noticed.

I heard the sound of paws padding along the sidewalk, and the sweet smell of tobacco caught my attention as I saw a man round the corner with his dog; the man, a neighbor I recognized, was smoking a cigar, quite at his leisure, out for a walk and in no particular hurry, a very chill mood about him. I smiled and nodded as I went on my way.

Next I came up on a cat standing in an empty driveway. As I passed by I expected her to run, but she just stood there, gauging me, and gave me a little stare as if to say, “I am in a bad mood, my mouse dinner got away; leave me alone, and we’ll be cool. Kapeesh?”

Further down there was a Scottish Terrier pup sitting beside a tree watching some kids laughing as they played with a soccer ball in the street. He was being polite and behaving himself, but I could tell he wanted to play. I couldn’t help grinning at the scene as I passed by.

There were crickets chirping, and I saw a small Japanese Cherry tree with tiny pink blossoms that I had never noticed before. As I rounded the corner there was a boy on a skateboard and I could hear the sound of the board scraping across the pavement; even the sound of my own breathing and shoes against the sidewalk sounded rhythmic as I went along.

There was the hum of a lawn mower in the distance, and the scent of newly mown grass and fresh earth wafted in the air, reminding me of being around my dad’s garden. He is a horticulturist and an avid gardener, and always has something growing. Tomatoes, green onions, squash, or any number of fresh plants; I never know exactly what will be growing in his garden; it’s always a surprise, depending on the season, but there is always something delicious to enjoy. My parents live in another city and we don’t see each other often, so the smell of the grass made me smile as nostalgia set in and I decided to give my parents a call and say hello.

The air started to grow cooler and a touch of crispness took over the spring air. I rounded the next curve of the sidewalk and was facing the sun just as it began its descent for the evening, and I took in the scene all around me; the lemon-yellow and fiery-orange glow dipping behind the trees, accompanied by the hushed sound of birds and a breeze rustling the leaves on nearby branches, and I started for home.

So many stories, so much music, all layered and rhythmic, and good for a smile on a cool spring evening. Next time you are out and about, listen for the sounds of life and see the stories all around; you might be surprised at how much is there.

Fight The Rut

I once heard someone say that they didn’t like change; that they were like a rusty nail; once in, they wanted to get in a rut and stay put. I could say that the person who made that statement was very happy with her decision, but she was not. She was tired, worn down, and bored with life, but firmly resolved to never do anything about it. This bothered me, and I filed away what I had heard and observed to remind myself to fight against that state of existence.  I don’t think anyone is born into this world to get into and remain in a “rut,” merely existing in a state of disconnected staleness.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I must say – we have one life. And we should fight against apathy and the numbness that can set in if we let it slip past us; it is all too easy for the adage to take hold – “I’m too old, it’s too late, I can’t, I won’t ever, it’s too hard, I’m too tired, I don’t have what it takes.” If we choose to fall into that state of being, we will end up living a half-life, and instead of dancing in the rain, we will be just like that rusty nail, corroding inside a wall of disappointment and regret.

I recently watched a television show in which a character was stressed out and feeling trapped in his life, and very unhappy. He lay down on the couch in his office to catch his breath, and looked up at the ceiling. A movement from the fluorescent light above his head caught his attention, and he noticed that it was from a fly that had become stuck inside the light. He watched as the fly buzzed around seeking an escape from its prison, as if secretly hoping that if it could find the way out, perhaps he could too.

We are not as helpless as flies, but at times it can seem that way. It is all too easy to slip into a trap where we can get so wrapped up in a day-to-day routine, so busy trying to morph and adapt to a specific environment or social culture, or to fulfill expectations that have been placed on us, that we begin to dismiss the things that we are really passionate about. This should not be. Every one of us has something we really love to do. It can be music, dancing, singing, reading, painting, skateboarding, acting, riding a motorcycle, cycling, sewing, cooking, writing, just about anything. If it makes you happy, and you enjoy doing it, than do it. Why not? Don’t let what you really love to do slip from your grasp and fall away like a linty post-it note. I am not saying we do not need to be responsible. Of course there is daily life. We don’t live in the clouds; the princess isn’t always graceful, and the prince isn’t always charming. Sometimes she’s in a bad mood and he falls off that white horse. We work, we pay our bills, we buy food to eat and wash the dishes, take the dog for a walk, and empty the trash; these things are a part of life. But that is only a part of who we are; there is an entire other side of us that should never die out. Both sides should subsist together, so that one is not without the other. This is the balance that is needed.

Regardless of age, there is still a kid in all of us; but we are also now adults, capable of finding our own way to navigate life and still be alive and adventurous, find happiness in the simplest of things, and not over-think so much.

Whatever it is that you love to do, do it, and you might just find that you have become rust-proof along the way.

Randomness

Thought I would start a blog for those cases of randomness that need to be put out into ink-thoughts. So, here we go. First blog.

I don’t know.

Those are the three words that were being tossed around in my head yesterday while I was out running. Those are the three words that are keeping me awake now, so I will write out my thoughts and in turn, share them with whoever is reading this post in hopes that if you think about this too, you will find you are not alone. I often do, think of these words, and I imagine that most, if not all people do, at some time or another, even if it is in secret so as not to appear weak; there are times when we just don’t know. Don’t know what is next, or how it will turn out, or what is the right path, or if we will fail, or succeed, or be able to maintain equilibrium; wondering if it will all turn out ok, or maybe that it won’t turn out like we planned. Sometimes trying to figure it out is just exhausting.

So what do we do when we come up against all this - the questions, the uncertainties of what we just don’t know? We do the best that we can and take it one day at a time. This may sound simple, but the alternative is to drive ourselves mad with worry and over-analyze to the point that the details crowd our thoughts to over-capacity and cloud our judgment, making us blind to what matters most in our lives.

The not knowing can be overwhelming, and the challenges too intimidating. Sometimes it can feel like being at the bottom of a hole, trying to climb out, and can be a lonely place to exist in. It is at these times that we must take a breath and just be, stand up, climb back out, then do the best that we can and leave the rest. To sum it up, I think of it this way:

If you get down to the lowest of the low,

If you are at the bottom of the muddy hole,

Catch your breath, get your bearings, gird your strength, and choose.

Choose to stand up, though mud soaked and weak,

Begin to move, in spite of the weight against your feet.

Choose to look up at the light and adjust your eyes,

Reach out for the rope, grasp it tight, and climb, climb, climb.

If you fall, get up again, don’t give up or stop,

Keep trying, keep fighting, until you are near the top.

Feel the warmth of the light as it hits your cold skin,

Fight against the dark beneath you that wants to pull you back in;

Ignore the thoughts that say you are too old, too sore,

And reach out for the hands that wait to grab yours;

Reach out for those hands, let them pull you into the light,

And feel the life come back into you, as you say goodbye to the night.

No, we may not know, what will be in our tomorrows,

Or when we'll turn corners and find joy or sorrow.

But what we do know is that we will not be alone,

And will always have a place to call home;

That home is found in the hands that hold us up,

Joining together with our hands, filling up our empty cups.

As long as we have hands to hold,

And friendship and love, we will never grow old.

So when you get down to the lowest of the low,

And the words that tumble in your head are “I don’t know,”

Know this: you are not alone.