Monday, September 27, 2010

I am Sorry for Being Fragmentary (revised)



Oh farewell, Structure! This is what I said to myself for the past week, since I wanted to feel young again. I threw away my schedule and my body clock; I had a grand time. Of course, there were still limits. I couldn't afford to go "la vie boheme" all over again. I won't say that it's past me and it's unattractive. I love the life and the spinning chaos, but I can't bear living that way everyday. A drink or two (more) is enough. Staying up late from time to time is enough. A young person's gotta do what a young person's gotta do. But that excludes the stupid things, of course. But temporary lapses of judgment are forgivable if they don't damage you. You also have to collect things you can laugh about.




It was nice seeing everybody happy and laughing. It was great that everybody loosened up and lived to tell the tale. It was great sharing the night with you guys! :-)




I'm looked after. Thank you. :-)




From living somewhat chaotically, it's now time for me to revert back to being structured. I have to have my priorities aligned because I should be somewhere and I want to get there. I'll still stop to smell the flowers, of course.




Perhaps I have ceased to make sense or I'm getting too cryptic. That's because I'm not really here. The world has become too much to bear. I don't mean this negatively. I just need time to reassess everything: It's time to keep still.




Imagine that you're on a bus and you are the only passenger. You are a few seats away from where the driver is, but you can see the framed view made by the windshield. You see mountains, trees, and a big patch each of greens and blues. Don't forget the feathery white that makes clouds. Light plays on the windshield, and the glare is mesmerizing. This view makes you feel lucky to be breathing.

The bus is open. Your elbow is out the window. The wind is cool and soft on your face. You take mental snapshots: a curved side of the road that's by a cliff, more trees and a few quaint-looking houses, birds perched on electric lines, more birds caught in a glimpse in mid flight before descending, and a glimmering lake or ocean from beyond. Although you are far, you can see how the tiny waves move, how their colors transform as they are hit by light.


The snapshots that you take are many and you wish with all your might to keep them intact in all their accuracy. But the mind isn't enough and it decides to play tricks on you. Your heart sinks and you feel cold. It says that you've seen all you've seen but you have not lived among them. Then you think to yourself "Inertia. Your body is at rest, but the bus is moving. You are in the bus; it separates you from these places that you see. You've seen them but your feet haven't touched the land you have just passed."


After that realization, you then wish to live among what you have seen because you were made aware of your mortality and you want to embrace everything.




Yeah, whatever. Something like that.




Everyone's an iceberg. I said this before about people because I was busy peeling layers after layers of their psyches. (Pardon me for the sudden shift in metaphor.) Now I say this to refer specifically to myself because I keep on getting surprised by what I've been thinking, feeling, and acting.




Somehow I can sense that life is about to get better yet again. I have no idea why. Maybe my intuition is just really out of whack, but right now I just trust what it's telling me.  


(September 26, 2010)


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