Writings by Tim Girvin
The Balance

I had something to write about
and rather than waiting till tomorrow, in the
early morning, I thought that I could gesture to the experience.
Now.

It's been a long day. Seeming like it's Thursday, but only Tuesday. Came in early, maybe about 5am.

It's a day of what seems to be
one meeting after another. And everyone expects a show.
Some special fling. One client even called in advance
and asked me be ready to draw something on an easel,
on the fly. Cirque de Girvin.

Sometimes, it gets overwhelming to
be, seemingly, not walking, but running.
Always on. Rarely off, or in respose.

I am certain all of you know the feeling.

I had lunch with a new client possibility on the
Eastside. Lunch was casual, but humane. The ideas exchanged
spoke to humanity, the development of relationships, the idea
that commerce, that branding is really about expanding the
human sense of connectivity, community and the gesture to culture.
And cultivation.

Of growing.

It was pleasant.

By the mishap of the valet who had 'misplaced' my car, I was asked by the client's associate, if I could please do him the favor, and drop him off at his office nearby.

Down a winding, parallel pathway, we drove together.

The sun shone brightly, the blossoms burst in the air and before us,
as we approached the marshland adjacent to his office,
a parade of Canadian Geese, looking regal, peaceful and
in rhythm, jaunted slowly across the roadway. They made their way across the thoroughfare.

All of us slowed to gander, the quiet and watchful procession. They were taking their time.

I drove him into the interior of the complex, heard the
lonesome trill of the Red winged Blackbird, said my goodbyes and dropped him off. As I made my way out, the Blackbird was still there, pondering something-quiet for a moment.

Cattails bristled. Cottonwoods sprung.

Returning to the roadway, I was shocked by an extraordinary spectacle. There were feathers blowing down the street. Geese lay silent, some contorted in that last paroxysm, others struggled unexpectedly, trying to regain their footing. On the lawn, curbside, other survivors watched the horrific, yet bleakly silent tableaux that lay before them. They too were silent.

All of us, approaching the intersection, couldn't believe this grim bend of reality in the soft spring, of a sun cast day. Getting out and moving the birds, about half of them were squandered, we looked up the road, to see the apparent instigator of this mindless overpassage, drive away. Driven away.

This piece (peace) speaks to the oblivious, watch-less dither that we can get absorbed in. In running, then stopping, I was shown for a moment, the simple beautitude of what life can proffer, if you take that minute for reflection.

Stop and enjoy the simplicity of observation. And slow down.

Life's little revelations are all around us, blurring by in the vast channel of action. Yet a momentary inaction, gives you access. For me, I learned two things.

To be grateful to have the chance to have experienced this vital parade, to be reminded.

And to realize that, in a moment, it can be gone.

The exquisite stroke between life and the absence of life-living and death-is a quick, almost blinding gesture to both sides of...

the balance.

Like a calligraphic stroke, this marking is powerful in both the white of the "paper" and the black of the "ink". They work together, to create an image; neither exists without the other.

thanks for listening to these observations. having writ, i've moved on, remembering,
Tim Girvin

(Originally sent: Wednesday, March 22, 2000)

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