The power of fragility within transience....

I took a sip of coffee and looked out of the window onto the back yard. It is, as usual, early and the half light of dawn is slowly transforming into day. It is my birthday this week. I will be forty five. I am middle aged. I took another sip of coffee and was still. Wow, time flies and other cliched phrases came to mind. Then a passage from a poem I studied at school materialized from amongst the cliches:

"At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance."

The 'still point of the turning world' defined by TS Eliot in 'Burnt Norton' succinctly describes our search for what is permanent to make sense of the transient nature of our life on earth.This poem is part of the 'Four Quartets' that was published in 1944. This quartet of poems are a meditation on time and the timeless. We seek that still point.We look to Faith to aid us in that quest. We might even look within, but our goal ultimately is to control that which we cannot ever control. That we, like life, are in a permanent state of flux.The irony is that change is the one constant in our lives. And, we fear it because it brings with it age and death.

Ovid wrote about it in his famous epic prose poem"Metamorphosis's". Malevich's white on white paintings tried to capture the infinite soul within the frame of a canvas, and failed. We have a fascination for change. Linda Evangelista can change her hair color to become the Chameleon of the fashion world.Cindy Sherman uses Art to reveal the manipulation of self. Madonna uses transformation to keep us interested and to remain relevant.

We should embrace each phase of our lives, but we seldom do. The aging process is ruthless. It is even harder for those who placed their sole value entirely in their physical self. This is a battle we are genetically designed to lose.

I read this past week in the New York Times about a therapist who committed suicide. He was forty nine years old. A successful man, who helped countless people build better lives. He was concerned about aging and loosing his looks. On paper he owned a condo, had a long term relationship, that was ending, traveled and was respected in the community. He had written a book called  "The Right Side of Forty;A Complete Guide to Happiness for the Gay Man in Midlife and Beyond". Ironically, he committed suicide because, as the article explained, he feared aging.

The power of beauty in society is a reality. And, it holds true within the gay community. A mans muscles and good looks lend him tremendous power over others. He is bestowed with many great projections of talents, character and other gifts from his audience. It is seductive and the rewards are real and in abundance. One can be drunk on it. One can loose the self to it all. Only that as you age you might not be able to find that same self that would have helped you accept your loss of physical appeal. The loss of the power it lent for a brief moment of youth, and that your relevance has expired. There is always a new model that everyone wants to drive. This article in the New York Times made me reflect on my own path to mid life.

I was fascinated by transience as a student. I read Ovid, Hermann Hesse, Rainer Maria Rilke and so forth. I read many books dealing with spiritual paths. I have made many such trips. I stayed in a Benedictine monastery, visited a hospice run my Nun's and spent many years wondering around the planet thinking about the transience of life and our complete lack of control over it.

I went to the gym. I enjoyed the physical, for we are flesh not only spirit. Balance is key to life. I embrace both equally. But, I always regarded youth like holding a beautiful butterfly in my palm. I could never hold onto it, for its beauty lies in its powerful fragility. To grip it would be to destroy it. So, while it flutters in my palm I experience its pleasures knowing always it will fly away. I value each moment without fear as to its loss.

I taught my 'self' to learn to detach its value from my body. My father always said to sew seeds for future growth and one of them was to firmly establish a spiritual core that transcended the body I inhabited.Youth is a glorious thing. It burns bright and dies. I have never played a game I feel I will loose. A wise man knows his weakness and his strengths. We are blessed with gifts and we should enjoy them.

I thought of this man who killed himself, who was invested in the physical for the acceptance, love and power his beauty lent him. I thought of many people I have crossed paths with for whom this was a path well trodden. I have walked along it and with no regrets for my stock was never invested in any of it.

I had been watching the movie 'Dangerous Liaisons' and there was a line in it that rang true.The Marquise (Glenn Close) says,"vanity and happiness are incompatible". I think there is a truth to that. Vanity, or narcissism needs to be fed from without. Self acceptance is fed from within. The former is on and endless quest and knows no peace. The latter has power, as it does not rely on the changing world of perceptions for it's peace. It is still.

As a gay man, as a fellow member of the human race, we all face the finite nature of our lives. I love to dance and when the dance of life is done the still point is there. It is within us. To experience the eternal we have to transcend the finite.To give up desire , suffering, pleasure to find stillness, to find God, or the infinite within. It is to know and be still.This is what T S Eliot is exploring in this poem. This is concept is not lost in pslam 46:10 either,  "Be still and Know that I am God".

Goldmund in 'Narcissus and Goldmund', by Hermann Hesse, said "It was the overcoming of the transitory. I saw that something remained of the fools play, the death dance of human life. Something remained lasting: works of art. They too will probably perish someday; they'll burn or crumble or be destroyed. Still, they out last many human lives; they form a silent empire of images and relics beyond the fleeting moment. To work at that seems good and comforting to me, because it almost succeeds in making the transitory eternal'.

I cried a deep silent cry of recognition of the beauty of that passage when I first read it at eighteen. It would take many years to understand it as I do now at forty five. I have painted, made images in paintings, of others,  myself, designed clothes and costumes. I am right now fixing words on here to send out into the ether. Even this moment will pass. And so it is. And, it is beautiful. I let it all go. I can take nothing with me. I celebrate those agile chameleons of life . May they, may you, burn bright,  dance with joy and may we do it in the full understanding of that still point in this turning world.

Peace.