Pic of the day: Well, it's me, of course! Now with shorter hair, but still...
So I ran off and bought two CDís today. Yes, I know you can steal it in the Internet, but itís not really my style. Anyway, these were by Chris de Burgh. Not so well known outside Europe, I guess, and even here he is mostly famous for a few of his love songs. I absolutely adore his music. He writes his own lyrics and makes his own music, as well as singing and to some extent playing. This makes for a unified music experience, in which all parts fit together like they were born together, not glued or welded. An organic whole. And while love songs may be his forte, he has such a wide span of songs, from the pacifist to the aggressive, from the spiritual to the carnal. His songs are such an expression of what it means to be a Man. I feel that he is singing for me, not to me.
The autumn leaves were falling
Chris de Burgh: It's me
Contrary to popular belief, being a man is not just about lusting for the females with the largest mammary glands, and try to convince them to intercourse. (Though I am sure that can be an exciting pastime for those who have trained their body to be much stronger than their spirit.) It's not even all about protecting the female and the cubs from cave lions and other dangers, and drag home the occasional carcass for dinner. There is something else too ... something that swells within us when we hear that question and feel that need. To rise to the occasion is not just an ecchi reference. Also spirits can rise.
Chris de Burgh: It's me
There is, I guess, a need to be needed. I won't say it's a specifically male thing. Rather I think it is a specifically adult thing. A child needs, simply to survive. It is a bundle of needs. But the need to be needed, the need to give, is something that comes later. It takes different forms in the man and the woman, to some extent. In our culture, at least, the woman is more often the nurturer and the man is the provider. Though these can be transposed, or shared; more often the latter, these days. But there is, for those who reach some measure of maturity, always that need to mean something to someone. Not for the sake of their attention, as is the case in children; but for the sake of seeing them grow and blossom.
And I think that whatever measure of slow pitiful decline this journal has shown over time is not caused by the loss of my mother (who was a great person, but with regards to me she had done her work long ago). Rather I think that I suffer from the loss of "my" girl, who is all grown up and doesn't need me anymore. She doesn't need to ask me about anything, or tell me what's on her mind. In so many ways, she knows more about life now than I do. I always hoped that she would outgrow me; but now that she has done so (except in the area of philosophy, I dare say) I feel the loss of her, keenly. If I have missed anyone, ever, it was her. Though she was never mine in any possible sense of the word, there was still a bond that I treasured above all else. It is frayed now, soon gone forever. I think that is why I long for other worlds now, to move on. However impossible that may be.
There's nothing quite like
Chris de Burgh: Fatal hesitation
You can never go back, you know. When you return to the river, it is not the same water. Children grow up; adults grow old. I guess some people form bonds of mutual dependency that may last till death do them part. But some are independent; it is a blessing and a curse. As with all things: For all things have a price.
There's you, of course. Isn't that ironic? I don't even know who most of you are. I guess that at least most of you come and go, kind of like students at a college. Drop by for a lecture, or a season of them. And then move on. But well, that's something. Let's face it, you're not a replacement for someone I can see and touch and smell and, especially, talk with. But as long as some of you hang on, I'm not going to ignore you.
I'll strive to open up your eyes to the wonder and the glory and the stars in the sky. I'll strive to steal the fire from Olympus and carry it to you, in my hands and in my heart. I'll strive to let you see the world through the wondering eyes of a child, and through the knowing eyes of the old. Through a microscope and a telescope. Through the clarity of a scientist and the hallucinations of a mad dreamer. From the trivial to the transcendental. I may not be a Chris de Burgh, but I can still show you a glimpse of the sheer reach of being a man. As a saint and a sinner, I will be there while I still am. Well, as long as you are. I'm even willing to be human, even though it hurts.
It's me, and I'm ready to go,
Sun today too!
Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.