"No day but today."

Mark: I hate to see you pass up something that could be good for you.

Roger: *scoffs* I'll live.

Mark: ... Right.

"I'll live." No... not forever. In this scene from Rent, Mark and Roger already knows Roger's dying of AIDS. But we're all dying, y'know? One day. And yet we put things off - relationships, experiences, doing the things we love....

Roger: Another day...

Mimi: No day but today.

We aren't promised another day.

I was faced with this on Friday at care group, too. Several folks asked if I had a good week. No. No, not particularly. I was pretty plagued by physical pain and emotional depression for the bulk of the week, actually, finding myself often desperate for someone to talk to and knowing of no one to go to. But these friends... new to me and already so dear... why shouldn't I be willing to call them up, tell them I'm doing lousy, ask for an encouraging word or a silent cup of coffee? Why should it be a surprise to ALL of them that I had a miserable week? It shouldn't. I'm just a part, but I AM a part of this body, and we're in this together. And they do an awesome job of earnestly loving one another, btw... of earnestly loving ME. But they can't if I won't tell them when I need them. I'd let a week of days go by and never contacted one of them.

One of the biggest things I love about Rent is the community. The closeness that the characters have, even more so, knowing the closeness that the actors have as a team - it's rare to build relationships in regular life like you can when you're in rehearsals with folks. But it's how we're supposed to be. It's the way we're supposed to relate to each other. It was for intimate relationship that we were created, and our loved ones can be a reflection of that.

I won't live forever. I don't have forever to love and be loved on. Today is the day for it.