Sun's up, uh huh, looks okay
The world survives into another day
And I'm thinking about eternity
Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me
I had another dream about lions at the door
They weren't half as frightening as they were before
But I'm thinking about eternity
Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me...
Seriously, that song takes me back to about... six years old, Mat and I making mud pies on a warm June afternoon, when there are still pockets of cool snow under shady spruces. We're of course in our bare feet (how else can you experience the joy of being alive?) and dipping toes in the icy creek every now and then. When we go in for lunch the house is too dark at first to see anything, because our little eyes are accustomed to the brightness of the sun. Bruce Cockburn is a Canadian genius, I don't care what anybody says.
"Walls windows trees, waves coming through/You be in me and I'll be in you/Together in eternity/Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me..."
Today the roads were slick with a 2 mm-thin layer of black ice. Walking to school was thus treacherous, with high winds to boot. By the time I got to Valleyview, within sight of the steeple of George Martin Hall, I was sliding sideways. You'd be surprised how my big, bad SUV boots don't have grip on ice! So I retreated to the less-iced sidewalks, where I met a similarly-rerouted young Indian man named "Jai", who told me about India and his previous life in Newfoundland, while we walked the length of the block. Then we parted ways, he down to UNB and me up to STU, where I was exactly on time for English class at 8:30.
"Up among the firs where it smells so sweet/Or down in the valley where the river used to be/I got my mind on eternity/Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me..."
After English I yawned in the cafeteria a bit while my friend Craig told me he'd had a dream recently where he roared like a tiger at someone. "Yes," I said, between yawns and sips from my Nalgene bottle, "Your face is kind of catlike." "Well, I've been called worse," he said. "I've got to go to class," I said, and then did.
"And I'm wondering where the lions are...I'm wondering where the lions are...
Huge orange flying boat rises off a lake/Thousand-year-old petroglyphs doing a double take/Pointing a finger at eternity/I'm sitting in the middle of this ecstasy..."
In Economics, Professor Secord split us up into groups to discuss models of consumer choice. "The reason we are doing this," he said, making scribbles with his ink marker on the whiteboard, "is to.. discuss the idea, and also.. to meet interesting people, find out how .. other people's minds work. Because, you know, we all go around terribly insecure, and.. sometimes you have to find out how beautiful life is." I was the 'animator' of my group, so in between sips from my Nalgene I facilitated discussion. We were all tired but rose to the challenge, talking marginal utility and consumer culture, debt and anxiety, and irrational choices.
"Young men marching, helmets shining in the sun/Polished as precise like the brain behind the gun/(Should be!) they got me thinking about eternity/Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me..."
In the library, I wrote down a quote by a poet named Pierre Albert-something, and then lost it without doing anything. I searched the immeadiate space for a good 5 minutes, totally confused, then when I found it, instead of taking it home as I'd planned, tucked it in between two books for someone else to find. It was: "The poets X Y and Z/and the Profond Auj'ourdhui".
"Freighters on the nod on the surface of the bay/One of these days we're going to sail away,going to sail into eternity/some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me..."
Last weekend was an absolute ball, by the way. I forgot to tell all of you (that obscure group, my 'readers'--or perhaps I'm only imagining them) that three great friends from the Cape came to visit, and we Freddy girls showed them a good time. I'm actually still recovering, since this week required of me a midterm and a few assignments, and lots of Latin homework (as always)... so the bean (that's me) is actually about to go have a nap. But yes. The point is that the weather was gorgeous, the parties were smashing (and crashed, at one point), and the old trout lives on, in a wood-panelled pub downtown.
Have an ecstatic day, will ya?
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