OCTOBER 15, 2024 – “Dear Diary,
In many ways today brought a typical mixture of ebb and flow; tension and resolution; yin and yan. What was different about it all was my awareness, my perception of opposing forces coming together to provide a modicum of peace through balance.
I started off in conflict—talking litigation strategy with co-counsel on a case. The conflict deepened when I reviewed the latest news headlines and read several articles and opinion pieces about Israel’s war against Hamas and Hezbollah at the expense of innocents; the horrific aftermath of the hurricanes; and the latest polls and pot-shot exchanges on the American presidential campaign trail.
None of this put me in a reconciliatory frame of mind when faced with the unbridled anger of a very close family member, whose struggles are deep and mighty and for whom I’d move mountains, if I could, except I can’t, and so, he vents his angst by “going ballistic” at me. The very worst thing in life, I think, is to be unreconciled with someone close. I’d planned to head to the Red Cabin and didn’t want to depart leaving him in a state of anger and frustration. I extended an olive branch, and he reciprocated. In driving out of town I knew what I needed to do: watch the Frontline episode, “South Korea’s Adoption Reckoning.”
Out of the blue, Cory had mentioned this to me last week. I say “out of the blue” from my self-absorbed perspective, not his. Unbeknownst to me, he’d been dwelling on the subject, and I’d been slow on the uptake when he mumbled, “I just found out that a lot of Korean adoptions were illegal.”
“Huh?” I grunted with a tone of annoyance at his barely intelligible utterance and having been interrupted from my work. It was an insensitive response to something that is a very troubling issue. As I should’ve known, I was afforded only one initial reaction, and I blew it. In the quiet bubble of my car early this afternoon, I was better able to process the confrontation that had preceded our reconciliation. His anger was directed at me, but it wasn’t about me. That’s so often the case with fury: it’s about something other than what triggers it.
This evening I watched the full documentary and by text, told Cory so. He replied immediately:
Thanks for taking the time to watch that. I didn’t want to say anything but was hoping you and mom would take the time to watch it. So that means more than I can express.
This was the capstone to a gorgeous late afternoon in the lakeside woods of our family’s Shangri-La. Fall colors are near their peak brilliance, and against the deep blue sky, the yellow aspen and red and orange maples among the deep green pines formed a royal display. The cool fresh air was still—perfect for a brisk walk up and down several trails in the tree garden and along the shoreline path. Eventually, however, the photo ops slowed my pace. As I shot pictures from the dock at the pontoon landing, Apollo seemed to stop his chariot long enough for me to “frame” at leisure several photos of the lake and shore[1]. In these moments, all worldly cares sat off at a distance, waiting patiently for me to enjoy the peace and beauty of my surroundings.
To finish the day, I turned to Stanisław Skrowaczewski conducting the Saarbrücken Radio Symphony Orchestra performing . . . Bruckner’s Symphony No. 7 (of course!). “Stan” was the long-time conductor of the Minneapolis Symphony (later renamed Minnesota Orchestra). What I didn’t know until my sister Elsa informed me by email this evening, is that Skrowaczewski was considered the leading Bruckner expert among the world’s greatest conductors of his time. (She was subbing with the Minnesota Orchestra when just a year or two before he died, Skrowaczewski conducted a performance of Bruckner 8.)
Before lights out, I will follow my usual routine up here—on clear nights, anyway: walking out to the end of the dock in front of the Red Cabin for a glimpse at the starlit heavens and a reminder of our place in time and space. A perfect way to close the circle of this satisfying day.”
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
