A Manifesto

Tuesday, March 16, 2010 at 4:34pm

It is the first real day of spring. I woke up before dawn and moved through the thick winter darkness. I am jet-lagged and sick. I email my professor my regrets, and return to hibernation. 10 am and there is a bird singing. I walk to my computer and turn on a sad song, but it plays differently. The sound waves move through the sunsoaked air with a certain sweetness, an appreciation for its warmth. I could write a manifesto with the hope in these dulcet tones.
It would begin “I claim the freedom to live without reference to your values; a life of quality not to be measured but to be felt. I will not specialize and systematize. I will create. Even... especially without a place for it, I will create.”
I went for a run. I could have gone forever. It is beautiful today. And part of that beauty is the darkness that preceded it. The context. I wonder if people in Southern California ever appreciate a day as fully as I appreciate this first day of spring? It is a cold drink after months of thirst. And it is the thirst that gives it meaning.