It has been an interesting exercise, noticing the things that provide meaning and joy in my life. A poet friend observed that much of my poetry involves lists, and I recognize it is my nature to catalog my experiences. In many ways I’m a very linear thinker.
Part of this exercise has been the process of omitting those things that provide pleasure, but are not at the center of my life. Sports, for example, is very important to many of my friends. They arrange their time and some of their social lives around the sports seasons and events. While I can have fun watching a match in person or on television, I really have only a passing interest. And as much as I love swimming and hiking, or an occasional volleyball game, I’m not a regular participant in any sports.
I cannot imagine my life, however, without art, music, theatre, dance, film, architecture or literature. Having the opportunity to experience the world through the creative vision of others provides a greater dimension to my own journey. I spend hours in art museums, soaking in the drawings, paintings and sculpture of artists from the past as well as contemporary artists. The walls of our home provide a gallery for reproductions of many of my favorite paintings. (The beautiful sculpture above is “California Boxer,” by Ludwig Schmitz; photograph by s_monk, shared through Creative Commons license from Flickr.com.)
I love almost every kind of music, from all over the world. Listening to live music, whether in a symphony hall or a neighborhood bar, transports me away from my own transient preoccupations and into the immediacy of a shared intimacy with the performers and with my fellow listeners.
I love plays and movies. Live theatre allows me to be part of a moment that will never happen again in quite the same way. One of the best nights of my life was my 25th birthday, when my husband took me to see Rudolph Nureyev dance. And films let me immerse myself in not just the narrative, but the sound and color and movement of the story. Wherever I go, I poke around in courthouses and churches, and seek out distinctive buildings and homes.
Most of all, I read. I read biographies and memoirs, history and travel books. I read all genres of fiction. I read poetry. When I don’t have something good to read, I read whatever is around. The joke in my family is that, deprived of everything else, I’ll read mayonnaise jar labels. Although I have begun to use my i-Pad for ebooks, I still keep walls full of my favorite books, to read over and over again.
My grandfather opened the world of literature to me. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting perched on his knee in front of the fireplace while he read stories from Dickens, and Shakespeare’s plays. If my attention wandered, he’d sing or recite pieces from Gilbert and Sullivan. My love of language, and an aspiration to use it precisely, come from him. My love of story, of course, I share with every other human being.