Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

This Friday the 13th needs a jolt of something brilliant, a pop of color to remind us how much glory is still out there. In service of that, here’s a bit of beautyberry taken several years ago in the Southwest Corridor Park near our Boston place. A photo like this requires very few words. Take in its color and design and let’s have a wonderful weekend. 

“One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters… But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.” ~ Charles Baudelaire

Today I’m getting drunk on color. Most of my excesses and indulgences these days come in the form of beauty, in the intoxication of bright gorgeous hues and strong shades of super-saturated tints. I’ve been that way since birth. When others went for basic blue or red, I wanted deep flaming fuchsia or sizzling chartreuse. 

Luckily for my fix, this kind of color has bled into November, when it’s usually gone by now and replaced by browns and grays. This photo was taken from our backyard, where there are still some striking things going on high in the air, such as this afternoon show of leaves as the sun sets them on fire before a perfectly-blue sky. 

This is the kind of drunkenness I love best. One can never have enough color. It always leaves me wanting more. 

Moving one row over in a cubicle-style office set-up may not be the most drastic change of scenery, but my view has shifted enough to now encompass this beautiful outlook on the Hudson River. It’s a rather lovely vantage point, especially in the morning when I’m in early enough to see the sun rise. At a time when the days seem to move more quickly, I need to remind myself to slow down and take sights like this in whenever they come to light. 

“In every change, in every falling leaf there is some pain, some beauty. And that’s the way new leaves grow.” ― Amit Ray

What glory this fall has brought to fruition! Here is the scarlet leaf of a Japanese maple as seen through the dappled afternoon light. This has been one of the most beautiful falls we’ve had by far, and I’m enjoying the sun and warmth at a point when grey chilly days are typically the norm. To that end, I’m keeping this post short and sweet so we can all go outside and take it in before it goes away until the spring. Now go! 

In the past, I was extremely susceptible to moon mood swings. Back then, I didn’t even realize it – I’d just be more prone to fights and arguments and getting my Tom Ford boxer briefs in a twist. In more recent years, I’ve become aware of these moods, and they do tend to coincide with the moon or Mercury in retrograde. Friends have noticed it too – not just in me, but in the way the world tilts slightly askew in those periods. Whether or not there’s anything to it, I find it better to be a little more careful at such times – more of a precautionary method of living than any actual stronghold of evidentiary astrology. 

We’re finished with Mercury in retrograde until the end of January 2021, so there’s that. Mars is in retrograde until November 13. And there are a few full moons before the year ends. Will it be messy? Of course. Life is messy. But there will be magic as well. The moon is magical. The stars are enchanting. The planets are filled with mystery. There is beauty and a sense of perspective we rarely consider or contemplate in an average day when one truly pauses to think about the vast expansive size and scope of the universe. It’s humbling. It’s frightening. It’s startling. 

I once had an Astronomy Professor who taught me about more than just the Arms of Orion. He was a bearded, unkept, and questionably-dressed guy in his 60’s. He always looked slightly odiferous, though I was far too scared to get close enough to confirm. His style was very adamantly a blend of the threadbare and practical meeting a heavy dose of I-don’t-give-a-fuck. In those supremely self-righteous college years, I thought he was giving away some of his respect by coming to class so poorly attired. As our class progressed, however, and I watched his wonder and awe whenever he tried to impart the immensity of the universe, I realized it was he who had his priorities in order, while my silly superficial structuring of the world was built on the flimsiest of spectral glamour. In all his years of studying the worlds beyond our world, he understood that the clothes we wore were not important in the face of such vast space.

The idea of how small we all were, how our lives were so minuscule when viewed even from the relatively-nearby distance of the moon, and even more so from the edge of our singular solar system. Expand your mind to encompass that our solar system is one of many, and that those solar systems expand so far beyond that it’s almost unfathomable. When that took hold in my mind, when the notion fully hit me in all its terrifying form, it altered the core of my being, and so shaken was I that I immediately backed away from it, sealing it off instantly. I felt a profound and debilitating horror of how little I mattered in the grand scheme of the universe – how small and insignificant we all were. That’s not something you can carry through the daily requirements of simple existence and keep going. I understood that. 

But every once in a while, when the moon glows just so, and the planets align to dot the night sky, I am reminded of that feeling, of the helplessness in the gaping face of immensity. And then I close it off again. To keep going. To find peace in the moon and the sky. To get through another day. 

Holding onto its splendor, this is the second week of November, still gracing us with such fine color and ferocity and a few days of absolutely exquisite sunny weather. It’s almost as if God is really, really happy about something. Save the fire and brimstone for another day… on with the weekly recap. 

Words from a legend.

Words from a national hero.

Words from a poet.

Words from another poet.

Orchid delight.

A confused flower.

Missing the morning glory.

Hope remains while all the company is true.

Keep smiling, keep shining.

The room of repose.

Vanity lies another way.

Inspired by the Backstreet Boys.

Stop saying this.

Hunks of the Day included Mustafa Ali, Johnny Flynn, Steve Kornacki, and Ritchie Torres.

Worry and tension bleed into and out of sleepless nights. A nagging fear seeps into the joy of the morning. Mercury moves out of retrograde while Mars remains. A full Blue Moon comes and goes. Tales of strife and woe carry on the wind, whispers of agitated citizens sound from the television, and the general but ever-increasing malaise of the world creeps with insidious and sinister intent into our most hallowed moments. There are perilous times. Tumultuous times. And the year isn’t quite done yet.

I’ve been trying to do what I would normally do in times of stress: seek out beauty and calm, in art and literature and nature, all from the brightest spot in our home – the living room. It’s become the place where the mind can travel, with books of art exhibits we never got to see in person, plants from the four corners of the world, and a cozy conversation couch that is mostly shrouded in silence these days. I don’t mind the quiet, though, and it is here that I have crafted a space to see us through the coming fall and winter in a place of peace and repose.

This is the room where I meditate, sitting lotus-style on the little rug in the middle of it all. It’s also the room where I read, or simply sit to ponder the passing of a day, or the pause before bed in the evening. It goes through its own seasons in the span of twenty-four hours, from the dim gray stillness of dawn through the sunny brilliance of noon, to the hushed, softly-lit tenderness of night. My favorite time may be the late morning, when these photos were taken, as the sun pours in even on certain clear winter days, reminding us there is still light in the world.