varying degrees of light

Arrangements have been made, the best they can, for the shoot tomorrow. Wednesday, at 3, the interior car dialogue scenes of Nick and Michaela who will call each other Paul and Jennifer.
Before I go on, I must apologize to whoever reads this, to the owners of the eyes that are probably saying, by now, "Oh Lord help us - he's bitching about existence again."
Well, I'm not... explicitly... this time... yet.
It's not very often that I get to sit down with friends, agenda-free, to drink and food without the looming obligation, and anxiety, of what still needs to be done immediately after. And the funny thing is that there were three of us and one person was talking about... just thoughts and how she reacts to various people. Myself and the other friend sitting there, listening, taking it in, sipping drinks, occaisonally asking a small question or chuckling. For a few moments, I conjured up the memories of past living arrangements and how it seemed, almost nightly, to invite friends over for small meals in the dark of night to speak freely, to confess, unload, vent, babble or catch up all with the freedom and openness that comes with a semi-occupied mind at the stove, at the cutting board.

"But you weren't as busy last year," and that changes things, I suppose.

Earlier today, a friend showed me an image of the Canadian landscape - trees surrounding a glacier-formed lake and... well, I suppose you would call them devotions, maybe not, but the one beautiful thought, idea or image that stays with you through the day, that shakes your bones to however God reveals himself that day. It might be the idea of the Canadian wilderness, a passage by Steinbeck, the solitary tones from a piano/clarinet recital.

And to venture there, to hike and camp and read and shout and sit.

Likewise, to spend days viewing films, reading stories, absorbing photography/design ideas...

But it's not like that, as a result of a conscious decision I made. Here. It's not paying my dues - I'm not a med. student, working towards a goal, a certificate that, then, allows me to do what I want. I'm already doing what I want here - responding to Canadian Lit, for one. And there are many.

I have to apologize also, then, for my finite temperance.

I miss my brothers, living their lives out in parallel directions, somehow, to mine.

I have miles to go. We all do, I suppose, as the semester is closing rapidly.

I hate that we end up taking each other for granted - that we lose each other in our ambitions and keep our greetings short, meaningless.

I dreamt, this is an odd one, that I was back in my church in Michigan and Jesus was there and we all gathered in one huge crowd, asking him questions and raising up differences in theology and doctrine... but Jesus just wanted to play basketball with us. He kept dribbling around us, taking shots and - of course - nabbing his own rebounds. At one point, he finally held the ball in his hands and looked a girl in the eyes, gorgeous, delicate eyes, and said,
"Do you really think I created you to..."
and, honestly, I forget how he finished that sentence. He embraced her then and continued to play basketball. No, we didn't join in at that point - the eighty gaping-mouthed Koreans we are/were - we watched him. Jesus tries really hard, but he's not very coordinated with a basketball. It's funny now, but at the time... wow...