Whether by coincidence or not, my office is unnaturally filled with the light of the sun as I write this.
I've never quite seen the shadows look so beautiful, so serene. I'm sure this isn't the first time I've been greeted with such a moment, not here anyway. And yet, it feels nothing if not fresh. I've never seen these beams.
It is because of George Harrison, because of his life, because of his words and music, because of all of this that I feel this way today, here and now.
Having just seen the second part of the new Martin Scorsese directed documentary Living in the Material World, I suddenly find myself face to face with a mixture of emotions I can't quite describe.
For one, I think of my Dad, who has long proclaimed George as his favorite Beatle. In some ways, this is fitting. My brother has Paul. I have John. And my Dad has George. I get a good chuckle out of the fact that our lives in many ways mirror our chosen picks. My brother, the professional. Myself, the one polarizing others. And my Dad, somehow finding a quiet dignity in life. Well, as much as someone like he can.
There was much to take away from the Harrison documentary, and certainly being a Beatles fanatic, I was aware of most. The 'quiet Beatle' was anything but.
George sought out life in a way I wish I could do more of. He, like John, realized that life wasn't about The Beatles. To say I find this admirable is an understatement. Instead he relished every moment, basking in the journey, no matter what the outcome. talk about a guy living in the moment...
But for me, what I took away most from the George documentary was something that occurred near the final minutes.
There were a moment, quick but no less poignant, that really spoke to me.
George, by all accounts, was an amazing and wonderful friend to others. No single piece of footage better exemplifies his love for others than when Ringo relays a story which happened between the old chums just days before George passed on.
Ringo speaks of a story of involving visiting George while he's having health issues (both from the infamous attack at his home and cancer). Ringo goes on to say as that as they're talking, Ringo mentions that his daughter has some sort of operation that he needs to fly back and be present for.
George, in a weakened state and near the end, asks Ringo, "do you want me to go with you?"
Ringo's perpetually sad eyes start tearing up as he recounts the story. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he says that, "those are the last words I ever had with him."
I found myself stifling tears as well.
Once another friend explains that George had special relationships with so many diverse people, the tears were no longer held back.
I couldn't help but think of how much we take for granted in regards to friendships. George had it right. He always did.
And after the credits rolled, I simply wanted to be a better man. I wanted to call so many pals of my own and tell them how much they meant to me, how I was sorry if I wasn't good enough at times. Above all else, how much I loved them.
That's the true power of The Beatles. And George.
I paused to take in my office, alone with my thoughts.
The yellow flecks of what resides outside are still here, still calling to me.
Kurt has just released his new book, Finding the Super-Hero Within. His connection to The Beatles and how this relates to his family is mentioned several times within it.