I realize that I’ve been merely posting drawings and songs lately without really writing about anything of consequence. It doesn’t mean that I’ve lost the urge to blog, though.
A lot of things have happened recently around me: MIT and Harvard had their respective graduations; the MIT science library is closed for renovations;
The Boston Bruins managed to spoil a 3-0 game lead and lose 4-3 while coincidentally losing the final game by giving up a 3-0 goal lead to lose 4-3; yet the Celtics are in the finals tied 1-1 after spectacular performances against the Cavs and Magic;
The reeds in the Fens caught fire; the Harvard Medical School Quandrangle labs also caught fire; my dorm’s gym did not catch fire, but the fire annunciator was beeping like a harpy nonetheless, cutting short my attempt to exercise.
All the while, I’ve been trying to find the ‘golden formula’ for optimizing my preparation for the Step I US Medical Licensing Exam. And yet, it’s always hard each day to get started.
Because in a way, I need someone there to encourage me. Someone who isn’t going to scare me witless, but someone who can give guidance. I always imagine that this is the sort of person who loves everyone, and loves me just a little, in that way that I love everyone a little. I think in a way, my painting yesterday reflects this, because the sweetness of that feeling is the sweetness of vibrant colors – the rosy red of the heart reflected out; the green of the grass drawn in through the feet into the bosom; like colors, the sensitivity of the agape, the unintimate adoration of life, is universal and exposed. There’s no way to hide it, and when I encounter it, I respond in a different way.
There are moments in life when suddenly, a pang of this color envelops me, and in these moments I feel the most pristine and refreshing love which does not insist on persisting or pursuing, but merely touching and acknowledging, and in those moments I share a smile or a hug and it is the most serene encouragement in all the world.
I hope that when you look at the painting, you can see this, too. The colors aren’t a fashion statement – they’re a reflection of the colors of her soul. The way she gazes out without staring, with a peaceful admiration, the layers of her clothes floating together like curtains atop a window overlooking the sparkling ocean. Human but ethereal, she loves you but she is not your love.
And who I need to find me, broken but of the same race, loving but not quite loved enough, aimless in the mists of the world.