Returning to DC was a comforting experience after spending almost 3 weeks in conservative central Florida for my mom's funeral et al. My friend picked me up from Dulles, and immediately I could feel myself ooze with the presence of feeling like "David" again. Like dunking a hard, brittle biscotti into some inviting hot chocolate, I could feel the staleness of my emotions crumble away into the welcoming mug of the city.
When I got back to my house I was greeted with 3 weeks' worth of mail. The most prominent envelopes were the super-red Netflix DVDs. Within them were my first requests on the queue: Season 1 of Six Feet Under.
Some people hesitate when they hear I've watched the entire series- was that a good idea? wasn't it morbid? did you cry a lot?
Well ... defining "morbid" is a bit of a challenge to me now ... unhealthy, diseased, and gruesome come to mind. And that's precisely what death is ... but it's also normal, ubiquitous, and -- paradoxically, a fact of life.
I guess my conclusion is that discussions in and around death are morbid solely because they are difficult. And things that are difficult become unhealthy and gruesome when we want to avoid pain.
Six Feet Under impresses me with its ability to take death and, with all of its messiness and entangled emotions, poignantly put it right in your face:
Here it is. It's real. It sucks. It's not going away ... ever.
And it's by accepting these things that you start to get through it.
Death is like stepping on a splattering of gum on the sidewalk. At first it's really sticky, and annoying as all get out. You walk and walk, the gum pulling at your every step and distracting you from everything else. But eventually the gum settles in and gets covered up by dirt and other debris from the street. So while it never goes away, you inevitably get used to it ... and keep walking.
Watching Six Feet Under was difficult, but very therapeutic. I remember, with striking clarity, some intense moments laying on the couch watching the show. I could feel this tide of emotions ... mainly sadness ... wash me over, feeling like the waves were literally rocking me backwards, forwards, and sideways all at once.
And it felt good.
Even though the rip tide threatens to drag you out into open and dangerous waters, swimming against it will only make the situation worse. But if you swim through it, parallel to shore -- not struggling, not fearing, and not fighting -- you'll eventually be safe.
So ... during the holidays I expect the ebb and flow of the tides will be particularly ripping *grin* ... and I'm not really looking forward to it.
But, luckily, my friends and family will throw me the lifesaver I need when my body can't hold out anymore.
When I got back to my house I was greeted with 3 weeks' worth of mail. The most prominent envelopes were the super-red Netflix DVDs. Within them were my first requests on the queue: Season 1 of Six Feet Under.
Some people hesitate when they hear I've watched the entire series- was that a good idea? wasn't it morbid? did you cry a lot?
Well ... defining "morbid" is a bit of a challenge to me now ... unhealthy, diseased, and gruesome come to mind. And that's precisely what death is ... but it's also normal, ubiquitous, and -- paradoxically, a fact of life.
I guess my conclusion is that discussions in and around death are morbid solely because they are difficult. And things that are difficult become unhealthy and gruesome when we want to avoid pain.
Six Feet Under impresses me with its ability to take death and, with all of its messiness and entangled emotions, poignantly put it right in your face:
Here it is. It's real. It sucks. It's not going away ... ever.
And it's by accepting these things that you start to get through it.
Death is like stepping on a splattering of gum on the sidewalk. At first it's really sticky, and annoying as all get out. You walk and walk, the gum pulling at your every step and distracting you from everything else. But eventually the gum settles in and gets covered up by dirt and other debris from the street. So while it never goes away, you inevitably get used to it ... and keep walking.
Watching Six Feet Under was difficult, but very therapeutic. I remember, with striking clarity, some intense moments laying on the couch watching the show. I could feel this tide of emotions ... mainly sadness ... wash me over, feeling like the waves were literally rocking me backwards, forwards, and sideways all at once.
And it felt good.
Even though the rip tide threatens to drag you out into open and dangerous waters, swimming against it will only make the situation worse. But if you swim through it, parallel to shore -- not struggling, not fearing, and not fighting -- you'll eventually be safe.
So ... during the holidays I expect the ebb and flow of the tides will be particularly ripping *grin* ... and I'm not really looking forward to it.
But, luckily, my friends and family will throw me the lifesaver I need when my body can't hold out anymore.
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