Chris Preston and New Aquarius Online

I had a birthday this week. (Aquarius) I enjoy birthdays and believe that we all have a right to make the most of our own personal holiday once a year. I’ve always felt that way. I was surprised that no one picked up on this fact when I was in high school and was absent on the same day every year. In fact, staying home on my birthday was probably the only luxury that being an honors student ever afforded me. It was the only time that I assumed some sense of entitlement with my mother, who never objected to my refusal to waste a birthday at school.

I spent this year’s holiday quietly with my family. I used the time to be my usual introspective self. After some consideration, I’ve determined that still, in a rotating sense of perspective, I want out, I want in, I must stop and I must begin. I won’t detail the specifics of each item here, but I was pleased to discover this time that I also have a number of things, as I scream headlong into a lifetime spanning two score years, that I have absolutely no desire to change. This is a departure from the customary list of resolutions that often stares back at me post-birthday and it pleases me a great deal. It shows that I’m living with purpose and enjoying the rewards of my conviction.

Having tacked on another year, it occurs to me today that to live a memorable and remarkable life requires not greatness but engagement. To be involved. The greatness that I long believed was the goal is merely the result. Engagement is the goal. Action. The goal must be pursued daily, even hourly. It is folly to aspire to engagement over a long period of time, such as a year. It makes greatness elusive, something for which there will always be time. In truth, a lifetime of countless moments of engagement is in and of itself one of achievement, value and greatness. These moments must be countless. Their numbers are our only defense against time that cannot be frozen and hours than can never be relived.

I thought of this while watching a video of Todd Rundgren performing one of my favorite songs. I believe the clip to be a sublime piece. For a moment, I allowed myself to become melancholy about it, since no performance by Todd at which I’ve ever been present has come close to what this clip seems to capture. I’m too young to have been there in 1978 and a great number of things have changed since then. However, I don’t believe that the moment in this video could have been planned. It only exists because of engagement, the pursuit of significant moments that, however unexamined at the time of their occurrence, as a gestalt may amount to something that can be called great.

My birthday gift to myself then, is greatness that defines itself. In realizing that I have things that I would not change, I’m already in motion. I have only to pursue the small piece of ground illuminated by my headlights, the precious few feet that in time will surely add up to a remarkable life’s journey if I do not gaze beyond, and miss them.

Rush hour music, indeed.

I overheard someone saying that just now. The response someone gave was “I know what you mean.”

People love small talk don’t they? Do they really mean these things? I suppose many of the things that people say to each other don’t mean very much at all, but I was so rattled by this.

I find that those capable of saying things like “Just trying to get through the day” are not talking about the sweet expectation of a great evening. To me, it seems to suggest that one’s mundane life is simply his lot and the best he can hope for is that it passes quickly.

I have a pragmatic friend who seems not to be moved by this at all. To him it was a fair enough answer to “How are you today?” Yet, to hear someone say “just trying to get through the day” filled me with such sadness that it immediately fortified my resolve to improve my life and eliminate those things in it that amount to nothing but its wasting. I think I’m further along in that pursuit than many, but I’m still not where I want to be.

I asked my pragmatic friend if we did not owe ourselves more than simply getting through our days. His contention was that even though we must strive to be happy, we are born alone and die alone and we are owed nothing in between. I disagree with him. We are owed very much by those who bring us into the world, but most importantly, we owe to ourselves a life that is a celebration of the gifts we’ve been given. The paradox is that the pursuit of such a life is not necessarily a reliable source of happiness.

Still, I don’t want to live a life of quiet desperation, as Thoreau called it. I will not.

“Just trying to get through the day, you know?”

No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.