Ellen: I am sorry that I have not touched base in a while. It seems that life really can be “like a box of chocolates” as Forrest Gump said. Surprises within each foil—the unexpected—alternately; sour, sweet, crunchy, creamy, hard, smooth, dark or light. I suppose it is the attitude with which one confronts life that differentiates those who can embrace the surprising diversity of life from those who only crave the consistently expected. Spontaneity vs. habits, delight vs. frustration, challenges vs. obstacles. How one sees life depends in many ways upon the material that has been used to craft the lens, its refinement, its shape and power of magnification, as well as the capacities of the viewer. Are we viewing the stage as life’s theatre unfolds before us, or are we on the stage crafting its flow in real time? Who knows? I know my preference—what I want to believe—but whether I am the puppet or the puppeteer…who knows? Sometimes, I find myself in these moods that I am in now. Not often, but occasionally they flutter down to land upon me like a flock of gossamer butterflies. I did not see or hear them coming, but all of a sudden, I find them rustling the air about ears as they settle weightlessly upon my shoulders. They create this almost magical feeling of neither being here nor there, but in a type of “in-between place” that lends itself to observation, reflection, maybe even magical possibilities. It is a place where I could imagine fairies lived, where elves dance lightly across the tree limbs in a massive ancient forest under the light of the moon, where wizards once good and now turned evil contemplate their next move in their machinations to control the world, where possibilities seem endless and where the imagination feels at home. Usually, these moods are animated by some especially moving moment that I had experienced hours, or days before. I am sure that you have experienced the same. A scene in a movie, or a passage in a book, or even a real life drama—nothing too long in duration for the emotion that it produced would otherwise have been too intense, too consuming to bear. Do you know what I mean? In other words, those emotional moments are like a fractal moment in physics, when the single atom is rendered asunder producing such force and energy that if it had lasted longer or been composed of more matter, the expanding energy would have consumed you as you observed its material transformation from latent to animate power. Sometimes, I feel that way about a scene in a movie. It comes and washes over me, and then the director then cuts to a new scene, leaving me concussed, shocked by its impact; and I want to shout, “Wait! Hold on for a minute. Let me find my center. It’s too much; I need to digest it, find my balance again.” In those moments of meaning…I feel…and I want to allow the feeling to run its course. It seems unnatural or even a violation of natural laws, to not allow those emotions to run their full course, to amplify themselves to the full extend of the power generated in the fractal moment, to reach the limits of its orbit before collapsing back into itself. I remember once going to the planetarium at the Roosevelt Natural History Museum on the Upper West Side in New York, for an opening of a new show, in which the audience was treated to a vastly accelerated view of the passage of time in the universe. It was a magical show. And in one section the focus was on the evolution of a star as it expands into a White Giant reaching its limits and then collapsing into a Red Dwarf and ultimately into a Black Hole, sucking and consuming all matter within its gravitational pull into its abyss. What in reality takes billions of years, transpired within moments before us, and because it was projected onto the half dome of the planetarium, the illusion was such that it felt as though I sat suspended within this transformation—a part of it, really experiencing its full cycle of life. I am glad in some ways that it was only a momentary experience. If it had been longer, I might have felt like a galactic piece of emotional matter sucked into that black hole. If it had lasted longer, it would have been too much to allow its full impact. Can you see what I am trying to say? It is as though, rather than being receptive and open to the blossoming feelings it ignited, I might have felt as though it were necessary to begin resisting, motivated by some atavistic need for self-preservation. As I reflect upon this I sense within myself these limits—sometimes defined at a further radius from my heart and sometimes unbearably close to it. And I wonder, why? Why, sometimes I feel powerful enough to fully absorb the full extent of that moment’s radiation and others I feel only powerful enough to witness them as though in the rearview mirror of my car as I speed as quickly away from the epicenter of its blast. I wonder what it might really feel like to be suspended in space, among those imaginary stars with you—like mythical Greek Titans, impossibly large, traversing space in a weightless, timeless expression of passion. I can see the image so clearly in my mind’s eye of the two of us entwined in a naked embrace oblivious to the fractal moments swirling around us, because we are consumed by our own, the one we would be creating in space among the stars. I wonder what it might feel like to really abandon the protection of the radii, to feel the full extent of the emotional and physical sensations that those fractal moments together inspire. I wonder if by going beyond the limits I thought possible before, I would for the first time feel the innocent purity of our creation and really know of our origin, of the meaning of life, of the past, of now, of the future. I wonder if it is even possible. I wonder if when two people choose to share something deeply meaningful if it’s meaning is the same for both. I wonder if meaning is even relevant in that fractal moment or if it rather just…is…and seeking meaning evades that which is most essential, most elemental, most primal—its existence. I wonder if as I write these thoughts to you whether you re in a place where you can relate to what I am referring to or think instead perhaps that I am a raving lunatic—(just kidding—don’t worry I am sane, just stretching my mind a bit here). In any event, as I sit thinking about these moments and the meaning for me that they might engender, I know that my mood is a dangerous one. Like a fiery Tango requiring a partner willing to follow my lead in perfect synchronicity, these moods should be shared only when my partner is fully capable of reciprocity. And so, I am sorry that I have not written in a while. Be assured that I am thinking of you and wishing I were suspended amongst the stars with you right now! I remain… Hopefully yours, Hans