Thursday, October 4, 2012

awaiting the advent

This day was autumn:

I went on a run one afternoon, as the sun was sparkling on the scarlet trees. I shook off the disappointment and disarray of schoolwork and the self-pitying pangs of procrastination.
As I ran past the lake, I saw a man on a boat in the middle of the lake. A comet of jealous desire shot through my heart and set me ablaze with yearning. If there was one place in the world I could be, it would be on that boat in the middle of that lake. As I ran, I watched the man on the boat and envied his peace and his solitude in his little water-bound hermitage in the middle of that lake. Nothing was able to touch him there in the middle of the glassy water. He had somehow escaped from everyday life and got to sit under the clear blue sky floating across a clear blue lake, surrounded by a forest fire of autumn leaves.

This day was fall:

I went on a run one morning, before the sun had even started to peak above the horizon. The gloom was pervasive, and the dampness soaked through everything: the swamped grass, the dead leaves falling from the trees, even the streetlights shining through the mist were harbingers of murkiness. The world was wrapped in a blanket of cloudy grey skies and leaves swirling in the wind. The whole day, the sky was on the verge of raining, but not quite there. As I sat in the cozy room, reading of aristocrats and artists, dilettantes and debutantes, the grey world hung suspended outside. It was a day of very little movement, but lots of wind. I envied friends who were out in the world, shopping and people-watching and lunching with Interesting People and geting to participate in the motion of the world. 
I was stuck, bogged down by the task-at-hand. But my task was to follow Sebastian Flyte and Charles Ryder through their lives and watch as their story unfolded. I was commanded to meet these Interesting People and fall in love with them. And so I didn't mind too much, but soaked in the aroma of pumpkin muffins and fresh coffee, and continued to read. 

No comments:

Post a Comment