Last week, I shared that Vlad’s best friend––and almost nightly playdate––Malibu moved away.
I tried to brace myself for the sadness of his absence.
No longer would a nightly “Malibu visit?” text arrive, followed by my leaving the door ajar, and Vlad eagerly waiting by it until Malibu pushed it open himself with his husky nose.
No more update chats with Bobby, Malibu’s dad, about how the day had gone since our walk from the hipster coffee shop together.
I was braced, as Robert Frost penned, to face the reality that
“So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”
What I was not prepared for, however, was that my isolation would turn into mandatory quarantine after my first positive Covid test.
Although I am one of those annoying people prone to boast “I never get sick,” the day before Malibu’s departure, I had experienced what I thought wasa moderate cold.
No fever and not enough symptoms for me to even consider not writing the newsletter or teaching my classes.
Since I was scheduled to have a reunion lunch with a dear friend with previous immune system issues, I decided I should take the test since I knew if I coughed even once over the appetizers she’d ask if I had.
When the kind folks at urgent care informed me of the results, I was shocked since in four years, I’d somehow avoid it.
Although the rules about when you can end quarantine now are maddeningly vague and inconsistent, I obviously canceled that lunch, as well as another dinner, and more significantly, our weekly visit or two from Vlad’s other favorite human visitor, Cha Cha.
Armed with my N95 mask, I still had to take Vlad out, obviously, joking to my dog-loving comrades on the baseball field that forthe next five days,there could be no kissing.
Many hearts were broken.
Somehow, all of this seems fitting for this month’s theme of Contrast (Meditation HERE).
Interestingly enough, although it’s of course unknowable, I do have a strong suspicion of where and when I picked up the virus.
Specifically, an incredible concert at Town Hall days before that another dear friend had invited me to for a reunion night.
The performer was Tim Minchin, whom I’d never heard of but whosegenius I’m now more than a little obsessed with.
In particular, there’s one recording of his I’ve been listening to on repeat that I’ll share in just a moment.
The song’s somewhat unusual subject: the Sydney Opera House.
Before we get into that…
This information really should have no effect on you (that is, unless you want it to.)
In fact, if you’re in a hurry, feel free to skip right to the next section.
We’re switching this newsletter to a new tech platform.
Although this means some gnarly work for my operations manager Nellieand a few VAs, for you dear reader, the change should be almost imperceptible.
You’ll still receive the same newsletter and meditations on Sundays as always, and they’ll always be free as my gift.
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In 1956, an international design competition was held for the Sydney Opera House, and Danish architect Jørn Utzon’s radical and futuristic work was selected from 233 entries.
However, his design was polarizing; while some praised its boldness and innovation, others criticized it as impractical and too costly to build.
There’s a lot more to the story––the construction time tripled, the budget went from £7 million to £102 million––but ultimately it’s now become an iconic and beloved piece of architecture that’s universally acknowledged as a masterpiece.
For its 50th anniversary last year, the Opera House hired Tim Minchin––remember, the guy who more or less gave me Covid––to write a commemorative song.
After a hilarious monologue onstage where the running joke was essentially the ad team saying, “And it would also be great if you could mention _______,” Tim agreed to the commission, but completely on his own, “take it or leave it” terms.
The song he wrote––“Play It Safe”––is brilliant on so many levels, somehowdeeply movingand inspiring and also hilariously funny.
I’m particularly delighted to share it because its central device is contrast, this month’s theme.
The lyrics of the song are essentially the voices of the building’s vehement early critics––the recording even uses some of those––all of which contrast with everything seen in the video and everything Minchin lives by.
I’m tempted to share all the lyrics but that would dampen the surprise of hearing them sung for the first time.
Here’s one verse though:
“You gotta work out who your team is
Then wear the badge with pride.
Find a box that makes you comfortable
And then stay the heck inside.”
Honestly, the entire thing is genius and you should watch it HERE as often as you can.
Before you do though, I thoroughly occur with Minchin’s instructions for viewing it on this website:
“Watch it LOUD, using headphones preferably, and on the biggest screen you’ve got!”
This summer, the ad took the Grand Prix at Cannes Lions festival, widely consider the most prestigious advertising awards.
Judges said the four-minute piece is “a celebration of the creative spirit, of brave ideas and taking huge risks in the face of critics.”
What’s so delightful is that Minchin does this by using every one of their admonitions against them.
My hope is that we can use contrast in our own lives half as brilliantly, allowing it to transform and enlarge rather than reduce and invalidate.
Finally, as my days of isolation seem to be drawing to an end, I’m eager to enjoy visitors and reunions again, but also wanted to share this as well.
Just as I was about to text Bobby and his wife that I’d tested positive––days after lots of final hugs during the Malibu hosting––I got a simultaneous text from them.
They’d forgotten to cancel their Factor meal delivery so there was a week’s worth of prepared food available to me if I wanted it.
The synchronicity is perfect.
Thus, while there’s been no kissing on the playground this week, amidst the contrast, there has been unexpected nourishment at home, and, as always, more music.
Namaste for Now,
