Shocking to imagine that people let their lives speed by them, when all I have ever wanted was for life to slow down enough for me to blink and the moment still be had... but you know, in retrospect, at least so far, I wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, this way involves a lot of broken bones, a lot of high speed wrecks if you will- but I get to experience slow motion then, in the flipping and bending of metal- and isn't that precisely what I was asking for?
Apart from high speed wrecks, there are nudges. Seeing someone's face in a crowd, when they so obviously are not there- certainly a nudge, perhaps more than that. Hearing a tune that carries itself not through your ears but directly in to your heart- a specific image forming in your mind like a memory you had previously left unturned. Perhaps more than a nudge... maybe in my case, there are no nudges, only shoves. Punches in the face. Or gut. (Life definitely gets my attention when she wants it.)
Here's what I am chewing on; Is it because I am dense, or because I feel so deeply? At times, I am lost in wonder- are the two one and the same? Being dense can leave you blind- and often feeling deeply makes you numb. The body dislikes existing in some form of unbalance. Yet I thrive in either the Yin or the Yang- but never, ever in the middle.
Then here comes this one- Where does love lie in this messy equation? Does it pay rent like the rest of us, or is it truly some ivory tower of an emotion that few are blessed by? I am inclined to say that love lives in neither- and is far beyond our simple human comprehension... far more of a god like trait that somehow trickled down to us than the word we casually joust with. Is true love more present in daily sacrifices to the common stranger than it is present in married couples and lovers across this nation? Across the globe? Perhaps love is only adaquately expressed in seconds, rather than life times... Does love then become so fearful of a dynamic that the human body, without the aid of God, can simply not digest it? Are Pop Tarts really as bad for you as they seem? Luckily, I know the answer to the last question- and it is YES.
Tonight, I watched an older couple sit down in front of me in a restaurant. They slid in to their booth like weather worn clocks- no longer enticed by their futures, but disdainful instead. I imagined their second hands screeching by, wishing they were capturing a different life- a different world. I watched them unfold their napkins with crumpled fingers, never saying a word to each other. Never summoning a smile, or a smirk- not even a reaction far less welcomed. No anger. No surprise. Their lives were lifeless, their days, dayless- and I can guarantee their nights were no story to behold. What were they? Shells. Empty shells on a beach that no one cared to walk upon.
The man adjusted his oversized, cigarrette stained glasses... they creaked beneath his finger tips. Or maybe it was his finger tips doing the creaking.
Were these people once volatile like me? Did they live in extremes- experiencing life to overwhelming degrees as I have? Or have they been just as they are- since the very moment of their conception? I hope they were never me- for fear of becoming them, but for their sake- I wish and pray that they have experienced even a thin, unsteady slice of the joy I have sought and gained in my life.
I hope I just caught them on a bad day.
No comments:
Post a Comment