Pre-meditation

I'm not sure what to write about; it has been a very strange day. When I type those words, I'm sure it conjures up images of a day packed with activities, filled with the bizarre. It's not true today. Today was almost entirely inside my own head. I have a headache currently, and I have little doubt that it is a headache brought on by too much thinking. I used to make jokes about that: thinking till it hurts. But the truth is that sometimes it does hurt. So much going through my head it makes me dizzy.

I arrived for rehearsal this evening with some minutes to spare. The choir was working through their portion, and I sat and began leafing through the Torah. A friend sitting behind me said, "How are you enjoying the Torah?" "Very much," I responded. It's true, of course. Much like the Bible and the Koran, I can spend hours reading it. I'll have to remember to find a good copy at the bookstore.

I was reading in Ecclesiastes, which I often do when approaching a new Bible.

For all his days are pains, and his occupation vexation; yea, even in the night his heart taketh not rest. This also is vanity. There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and make his soul enjoy pleasure for his labor.
--(Chapter 2:23-24)

Suddenly, the organist is speaking sharply to the conductor. Have you ever noticed that, even if you're not paying attention, confrontation in other people draws consciousness? Suddenly, everyone in the room was paying attention. It wasn't a screaming match; it was a battle of pride. The organist walked out at the break and never returned. A substitute organist was in place before the end of rehearsal.

*** *** ***

When I landed at home, I fixed dinner and watched "Capote." It concerns Truman Capote's acquaintance with a convicted murderer, which he subsequently wrote about in his book In Cold Blood. I was distracted because of my own experience with a murderer.

A man from my hometown murdered his grandparents in the winter of 1996. He was subsequently convicted, and is now on Missouri's death row. I've met and spoken with him before; he used to sing in the church choir with me, way back when. He's only three or four years older than I am. I have not spoken with him since the late 80's. I find myself thinking about him, though. At least once a year, if not more often.

Think how much I have seen and done in 10 years. All the places I've been, the people I've met, the new feelings I've learned about. What if I had been in prison for all that time? Would I read? Draw? Write? How would it change me to know that my death was coming, not in decades, but years. The prison would probably be the last place I would see; consist of the last people I would meet; the cafeteria food would be the nourishment to keep me alive until my sentence.

*** *** ***

Dark and depressing, I know. Thankfully, it's not all I'm thinking about. I also have the wonderful knowledge that some people I know are happy. They're overworked, stressed, and completely exasperated, but they're also bursting at the seams with happiness. And I am lucky I know them, because I draw strength from people like them. The idea that people around me are happy - that gives me determination. Acknowledging their happiness give me joy.

And a little joy dispels a large portion of heartache and headache.