Everything Will Be Taken Away #2

I've had many thoughts about this piece over the last couple of days, but haven't had a chance till now to write them down. I will say that in general, I have found it very liberating, especially at first. It felt very much like the first time I shaved off almost all of my hair. Maybe it's just the act of daring myself to do something.

My awareness of the message -- really, of the whole situation -- was much more intense when the henna itself was still on my forehead (before it cracked off and left the stain). Because then it was much darker. I had a piece (Fragments and Rumors) performed by the Flux Quartet, Emily Eagen, Wonjung Kim and Abby Fischer at Princeton Tuesday night, and after the concert about two dozen people came up to me to say "I really enjoyed your piece... what's that tattooed on your forehead?"

Meanwhile, not one person in New York City had indicated that they noticed anything out of the ordinary. Anonymity and all that, I suppose.

Anyhow, it's interesting to see how people react -- whether they perceive the phrase as being somewhat zen or extremely nihilistic. Personally, I find it kind of liberating, actually. (Although I'm not sure if I would if really faced with ALL of it being taken away in the next, say, hour). It reminds me a bit of the death of my good friend Cassie, who drowned. I always imagined that after fighting very hard to stay alive, she had a moment when she just gracefully accepted what was happening with a openness to what would come next. I suppose I do equate the message "Everything Will Be Taken Away" with death, although in fact everything is always being taken away from us (and given back in equal measure). Very few of the cells in my current physical body were present twenty years ago, as I understand it.

Finally, about the henna. On Tuesday night I drove through a driving rainstorm from Princeton to Brooklyn, and when I arrived, without thinking, I flaked all of the henna off. Only then did I realize that I'd never taken a photo of me with it dark. And now it looked so light! You could barely read it! I felt disappointed in some way. And of course, that's symbolic too. I feel every day I am a little less cognisant of its presence. maybe I just need to look in the mirror more often. (Physically and metaphorically.)