"Passover" (2014). Pen on paper, 20cm x 28cm. Words reprinted below.
Pass over this land again.
From above,
Waves crash on a shoreless coast of smoke
Washing the grey below with the grey unknown.
This ship keeps drifting.
Strangers,
I will never know your name unless I overheard.
This place was the Archimedean point of our lives,
Time and space for a ride
To the future.
This ship keeps drifting.
Suddenly,
The waves turn grey to red.
Blood or wine?
A miracle or a sign?
Best left unsaid.
The day surrenders to the eternal sea.
We'll get to the mountains before dark;
We'll scatter, you and me.
Time runs out, plans change.
This ship keeps drifting.
These words came to me a few years ago when I was traveling back to Washington, D.C. for another semester of school. I've discovered that I'm oftentimes most inspired when on the move - especially when heading to new destinations, but also when returning to old ones. I'm not exactly sure why this is the case for me (and I'm sure for many other people as well), but presumably there are several reasons.
The Earth rotates on its axis at a speed of 1,000 mph and orbits the Sun at 67,000 mph link.
One theory of mine has to do with the very nature of motion itself. As we know, despite the apparent sense of stillness that one can experience on earth, in reality everything in the physical universe is constantly moving. The earth rotates on its axis each day at the speed of approximately 1,000 miles (1,600 km) per hour. Our planet orbits around the sun at around 67,000 miles (108,000 km) per hour. Finally, the Milky Way galaxy that our tiny planet inhabits is currently hurtling through the universe at 1.3 million miles (2.3M km) per hour. This is all happening right now, as you are reading this.
"Shredding Orion", a photo composition by Adam Fraser link
Taking the thought a step further, traveling represents the greatest state of motion we can achieve as humans. Jumping into a plane or train or car signifies taking part in this wild ride through existence, like mounting a giant surfboard to ride one gnarly cosmic wave. For some reason, I find that inspiring.
The Meaning of "Passover"
"Pass over this land again / From above / Waves crash on a shoreless coast of smoke / Washing the grey below with the grey unknown /This ship keeps drifting."
If it's not already apparent, I wrote this free verse while on an airplane, the "ship" that it speaks of. Looking out the window at 30,000 feet high, the clouds below formed an impenetrable surface that other puffier clouds would then roll over like ocean waves lapping onto a beach - not an actual beach of course, but here a "shoreless coast of smoke" composed of clouds. To think that none of this even existed moments before, and that it would cease to exist just moments later, can fill one a deep sense of mystery (a questioning of the "unknown" from whence it all came).
"Strangers / I will never know your name unless I overheard / This place was the Archimedean point of our lives / Time and space for a ride / To the future / This ship keeps drifting."
If you think about it, an odd feature of traveling by commercial airline is that one is suddenly surrounded by complete strangers in a very intimate space. As recent news has reminded us, each time you get on an airplane it's possible that it could be your last. I don't mean to strike fear in anyone, but isn't it strange to think that - in a place where we are reminded of life's fragility - we usually have no idea about the lives of those around us? For this reason, I make reference to the "Archimedean point."
Archimedes was an ancient Greek mathematician who said that he could lift the earth off its foundation if only he had a big enough lever. Philosophers use the term "Archimedean point" as a metaphor to describe "a hypothetical vantage point from which an observer can objectively perceive the subject of inquiry, with a view of totality." It has also been referred to as a "view of time outside of time" or a "God's-eye view." It's just a metaphor, but perhaps riding an airplane isn't so different. In this brief moment, surrounded by strangers (and hopefully some loved ones), we can stop to consider our lives: where we are going, those who we will see at the journey's end, and others who we've left behind. When we arrive at our destination (i.e., the "future" - as Einstein said, time and space are interchangeable), perhaps we will see life differently and appreciate it more.
"Suddenly / The waves turn grey to red / Blood or wine? / A miracle or a sign? Best left unsaid."
As you can see from the photo above (which I snapped out my window during the plane flight where all this came from), the cloud formation I saw suddenly transformed into a deep-hued red. The sun was setting fast, and on its way down it painted the sky with fire. There was almost a spiritual quality to what I saw in that moment, when my ocean of clouds was suddenly awash in crimson. Whether it meant something positive or negative, I do not know. Was it a miracle, like Christ turning the water to wine? Or a sign of impending judgment, like Moses' turning the waters of the Nile river to blood? Maybe it represented protection, like the blood of Passover covering the doorposts of the ancient Hebrews in Egypt, preserving them from the Angel of Death. Perhaps it was none of these things; perhaps it was all of them. I'll never know for sure.
"The day surrenders to the eternal sea / We'll get to the mountains before dark / We'll scatter, you and me / Time runs out, plans change / This ship keeps drifting."
The sun finally descended below the horizon, and that plane flight came to an end. Just like the clouds that had quickly formed to paint a dazzling picture and then disperse, my life and the lives of those around me had converged for a brief moment in time... and then it all evaporated.
Riding the Cosmic Wave
Life keeps moving on and the "ship keeps drifting," whether we like it or not. Sometimes I really wish it would all slow down. I wish life would stop flying by so that its "eternal moments" could be enjoyed for as long as we'd like. But for whatever reason, things don't work that way. As a family friend named David Feinstein likes to say, time keeps passing by "at the speed of life."
This week I got my passport renewed at the U.S. Consulate in Brussels. I'm proud to say that I used up all but 3 pages of the old one, which was worn and faded from lots of adventures. It was quite a nostalgic moment to leaf through the stamps and visas I have collected along the way and reminisce on the many stories that their pages conceal.
The new U.S. passport is a work of art unto itself. It is lined with superior quality paper and its pages are printed with classic scenes of Americana, from Mt. Rushmore to the Mississippi River to the Great Plains heading West. Each set of pages is inscribed with a quote of a President or another famous figure. One of my favorites is by Ronald Reagan: "We live in a world that is lit by lightening. So much of it is changing and will change, but so much endures and transcends time."
Most importantly, the new U.S. passport comes with twice as many pages as before. So as much as I've enjoyed this moment of reflection, it's time for me to jump back on that cosmic surfboard and ride the next wave for as long as it lasts. See you out there!