Beautiful Hell


Dear Eugene,

It's been a tough first couple of months, many Vancouverites would agree and I've heard more than a few of us saying, looking back, bidding farewell to the cold and snow, looking forward to something more promising.

There's promise in sunshine, just enough warmth, spring warmth, not too demanding whichever way one feels it, unless feeling the sun is generally disagreeable to a person, which is like resisting God, the giver of life--can't live with him; can't live without him; tolerance and avoidance or a supposed mutual disregard is the shade we seek.  Kikayon.

 "Maybe it's all utterly meaningless. Maybe it's all unutterably meaningful. If you want to know which, pay attention to what it means to be truly human in a world that half the time we're in love with and half the time scares the hell out of us."

Frederick Buechner, his saying, this one, troubles me all seasons, especially when there's change in the air.

You get used to the dead of winter and wonder why you can't stay there now that you've worked out the comfortable routine to accept the unacceptable.  Here, all of a sudden, spring--the sharp sun the eye itch the heat the housecleaning the bees and silverfish and lawnmower accusing you of not living enough.  You look at the road and prove yourself right that there's still ice on it and thus unsafe to tread.

Why can't I stay dead?  The beautiful sun is scaring the hell out of me.

Yours, Alex

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