I’m watching the UN General Assembly right now, not because I think the UN will be remotely helpful in this situation (or ANY situation…“shall I call the United Nations?”), and the screen suddenly went blank, and then switched to the test pattern and that horrendous constant beep that comes with it — and my first reaction was, fuck, he’s done it, that mad bastard’s done it, he’s dropped the bomb, I need to– just instantly, without even thinking about it.
Of course, it was just a brief interruption in the broadcast (satellite issues, or something), but just…that panic that gripped me…it just fell around me with a silent clanging of an iron curtain, and…
Nothing ever really changes, does it? It’s the same tune, really, just played on new instruments…or, if it is a new tune, there’s always throwbacks to certain refrains, always.
Baby, baby, baby…light my way…
Our sorrow is endless…
But why is there so much sorrow?
Why is there so much sorrow, Nienna?
“So hope may be found again.”
This…considering what a tiny budget it must have had, this is incredible. Something about the visuals and the beautiful music that played when Yavanna began the re-greening of the world actually made me tear up. Amazing, amazing!
Ah, I only seem to write about sad things lately…well, let’s change this. This isn’t sad, per se, just…perhaps rueful and regretful. (I’ll have something wonderful to say, soon, I promise. I mean, I hope. But this is a personal blog, not a curated Instagram weblog thing, and life is not perfect all the time. And that’s okay.)
“Please write, long long letters, all about yourself and if you like me. That is what I want. I don’t really read anything with interest except your letters.”
— Virginia Woolf
I walked outside this evening, and looked up at the sky…and it was so clear. So, so clear, like the little rainstorm we had at the very end of the afternoon had cleansed the sky or something like that. So many points of silver in the star-host…so bright and magical…something almost holy, mystical, sparkling scintillas of wonder. I just stared and stared and stared, enraptured.
And I felt it. That memory stirring. The old wonder, my old self. Just for a breath, but it was there.
There is magic all around, still. I think it’s just a matter of stopping, breathing in, letting go, and opening your eyes.
“All light is sacred to the Eldar, but the Wood Elves love best the light of the stars … It is memory, precious and pure. I have walked there sometimes, beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fill the air…”
— Tauriel, The Desolation of Smaug
A little bit of a personal post, perhaps…