A clarification longer than the answer, or the question

I have had some discussion regarding my last post. So I share it.

First, of course a dream of San means nothing, except to me. Likely he is well. I apologize if this was not clear, but it should be when I say it is a dream. The dead and living do not speak together, and San made it clear I was to be as dead to him. I might be a necromancer, but I cannot raise myself; that is not the order of things.

Second, I was offering the song alone. The lyrics confused it, perhaps.

I like this song very much, because it has brought me much comfort.

I almost spoke with Leonard Cohen this fall, and I was saddened when it was not possible, because I feel that when he speaks of altars, he understands my own. Also the line about the heart beneath. Often I have felt this to be the case, that the things I learned about love in the past are one heart, but there is something else as well, deep within.

But many, many feel this way about him and this has been his lasting gift to me: When I thought no one could ever understand my songs, long before I spoke on this Internet, I saw that some understood his. His journey is not mine, clearly. He speaks to many and I speak to a few. But to me, it is significant.

So that is why this song came to mind as a song and an offering, I think. It is generic and specific at the same time.

I understand that he is speaking of the world, not a person. It might be a person, but it might be starlight, or a ripe avocado, the avocado for my Lyria, of course.

If anyone truly needs it, of course, it is myself. I am, after all, the discarded.

It is strange to me, still, that San rejected me and mine to such a degree. It is odd, still, to think of his whole lifetime ahead without me, and mine without him. There is no question it is thus on his desire, but I am not quick to change. I have been considering what it means, one’s word, when others break their own. I do not like the common answer, and yet I find my own deeply unsatisfactory.

But all this has been said before.

What is unusual enough to note is to find myself turn to compassion the first. I was not raised to have very much, if any: Let the strong survive and the weak not.

In Lynn, these thoughts are told thus:

A hypothetical case of lifeboat ethics. You have been tossed out of the boat.

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About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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