The Flight of the Bumblebee

Here's a picture of Linds and I outside of the Botanical Gardens in Sydney. To have been able to sit with one of my best mates, my maid of honor and reflect on life was one of the most cherished things of all my trip. I can't quite figure out how I want to start my first thoughts in the New Year- so much has happened it's hard to recap life through eloquent lines of serenity and thanks. So I will compare it to a song. If my life in 2008 were to be represented by a musical composition it would undoubtedly be Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's 'Flight of the Bumblebee'. You know of the piece, I'm sure. The cacophony of instruments seem to be battling each other, driven to make their noise heard among the other fleeting sounds. If you were to close your eyes and guess where the notes are fleeting to, what do you see? To me it represents all that goes on in life; the juxtaposition of jubilant victories with asphyxiating tragedies. Neither of which have any regard for the timing of the other, they just happen. Singularly, these moments may be negotiable or manageable, but when does life happen when you can manage it? Just as one could disassemble the 'Flight of the Bumblebee' and argue it to be nothing more than chaotic, sparring bursts of sounds, together these sounds comprise a mesmerizing score that makes me keep hitting the replay button. Life, too, with its untimely stages of triumph and defeat seems to be this mind blowing masterpiece of rhyme and rhythm that has it's own agenda, it's own direction. Although I can't control it, I am not afraid of what is in store, it's only 52 weeks after all. Because I long for the days when I could hold my Grandpop, my only solace is to capture my thoughts during these times of life and death, for without the memories of life with those you love, what is the point of life at all?