The opening of Murakami’s short story “With the Beatles,” spoke to me:
What I find strange about growing old isn’t that I’ve got older. Not that the youthful me from the past has, without my realizing it, aged. What catches me off guard is, rather, how people from the same generation as me have become elderly…It’s a little disconcerting – sad, even. Though I never feel sad at the fact that I have similarly aged…
My ninety year old mother liked to say: When I look into my own eyes, I still see my eighteen year old self…” full of dreams and expectations, still hoping for a better world, and for time to do one more thing.
Read the short story with the beatles
Today, When I Could Do Nothing
by Jane Hirshfield (for the SF Chronicle)
Today, when I could do nothing,
I saved an ant.
It must have come in with the morning paper,
still being delivered
to those who shelter in place.
A morning paper is still an essential service.
I am not an essential service.
I have coffee and books,
silence enough to fill cisterns.
It must have first walked
the morning paper, as if loosened ink
taking the shape of an ant.
Then across the laptop computer — warm —
then onto the back of a cushion.
Small black ant, alone,
crossing a navy cushion,
moving steadily because that is what it could do.
Set outside in the sun,
it could not have found again its nest.
What then did I save?
It did not move as if it was frightened,
even while walking my hand,
which moved it through swiftness and air.
Ant, alone, without companions,
whose ant-heart I could not fathom—
how is your life, I wanted to ask.
I lifted it, took it outside.
This first day when I could do nothing,
beyond staying distant from my own kind,
I did this.