Spring is here

Isn't life weird? I have spent the last two months thinking about death, and the inevitable decline of the body, and how pointless things are, and how people are selfish and insular, and everything negative.

And then, two nights ago, I'm walking my dog, Spiker! and we go by Spy Pond, and the light is shining on it, and the messy snow is melting everywhere, the air is still cold but with that smell of spring in it, and Spike is bounding up the hill in the most ridiculous and adorable manner, and I suddenly think: "this is awesome. this whole life thing. what difference does it make that it's finite. Or is it? who the hell knows. I LOVE THIS."

And then, I go see Hotel Nepenthe. Now, honestly, I almost don't go. ASP still threatens me with waves of misery, but I try to be brave for the artists whom I love. And I get there, and who cares? Nobody "complicated" is there, but people are there who are genuinely glad to see me, and it's just nice. I see the show, which is isn't perfect, but golly, the acting is awesome, the designers and director and author have put it all out there, and they are having such joy making this work, and there is so much to rejoice in here. It's magical. And then I go to see Kelli's Spring Concert at Milton. And the kids choreograph pieces that are AWFUL - but gosh, they are so joyful, who cares? And Kelli makes work that is so subtly brilliant, so delicately magical, I'm enthralled. Everywhere, people are making things. And my dog bounds through the melting snow and smells the amazing smells of spring, and I suddenly think: Winter makes you an extremist. Art pushes you to be an extremist. But it doesn't have to be that way. The effort, the engagement, the commitment, the simple pleasure in making stuff - what more to you need? This is GOOD.

Welcome Spring.