The Flash

My apologies, I know it has been far too long since my last post; I have been lucky enough to attend a friend's wedding in Canada, and have simply been playing catch up since I got back. But for some time now I have been meaning to put fingers to keyboard (not quite so poetic as pen to paper, but nevertheless...) and failing, until tonight. And the reason I write now is, unusually, thanks to a television program.

Regarding television, I am of two very distinct minds. One part of me loves it (the very naughty part I generally keep subdued with ice cream and trashy romance novels); I love the escapism it offers, the mindlessness, the sheer pleasure of entertainment that requires no effort on my part other than simply listening, and sometimes even very little of that. But of course, the writer in me is generally appalled by television. It is so very mindless. It is crass. It is ugly. It glorifies in the worst part of ourselves, taking us to such levels of mediocrity that it is impossible to imagine that we could sink to any lower levels of apathy.

And yet, every once in awhile, something stirs, something redeems, something inspires. Tonight, I was watching Andrew Denton (a brilliant Australian interview) speak with Miriam Margolyes (perhaps best known as Prof. Sprout in Harry Potter). I had only a passing acquaintance with Miriam's work, but was caught up in the interview from her very first sentence as she sang the praises of Charles Dickens' female characters and contorted her face beyond recognition to impersonate one of them. From there, she spoke of her parents, her acting, her weight, her partner, her losses, her joys, and for not one moment did my mind stray from what she was saying. She had a gift of expression that was, simply put, breathtakingly beautiful.

And she reminded me once again of the beauty in words. For me, above any other medium, they can create such feeling. And of course that feeling can be of any sort of variety, but to be able to say it, to express it in a way others can understood it - that is a gift.

And all of this reminded me tonight that even as a grown up, I can still be blessed by what Emily Starr 'the flash'. (Note: Emily is my favourite L.M. Montgomery figure - sacrilege to Anne fans I know, of which of course I am one, but give Emily a try, I know she will enchant you.) For those of you who have not read Emily for awhile here a reminder:

'It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside-but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond-only a glimpse-and heard a note of unearthly music. This moment came rarely-went swiftly, leaving her breathless with the inexpressible delight of it. She could never recall it-never summon it-never pretend it; but the wonder of it stayed with her for days. And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.' (Emily of New Moon)

Tonight I have been visited by 'the flash' and I will glory in it, even if it means I become far too sentimentally verbose (even more so than usual that is). And my wish? That you would experience the same.

And to help you in that goal, perhaps a little Miriam Margolyes... http://www.abc.net.au/tv/enoughrope/