Can that guy drive any slower? What is his problem? Why are you walking so slowly and taking up the whole sidewalk? Didn’t anyone ever teach you proper sidewalk etiquette? Just who do you think you are? Walking so self assured like you own the place. Get out of the way! I’M coming through. The world revolves around me, doesn’t it?
Knock, knock.
What is it? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here? Go away!
Knock, knock.
Are you deaf? What is your problem? I’m busy!
Knock, knock.
Strapping a quartet of wheels to each foot, I scream across the black top with the sun setting behind me and the moon rising before me. As the sun vanishes behind the puffy clouds and distant horizon, rays of airy light break out across the clear blue sky. Breathing in the clear fresh air, feeling the wind rush through my hair, and tasting the salty sweat as it beads up and drips down my face; I am alive.
Attached to a string, a small orb sails across the sky, tossed to and fro with the flick of the wrist, to the tune of the jam, to the movement of the man, who sways across the grass, among the quick bright flash of the fire flies, and the sun goes down, and the sky turns black–and the dance rolls on.
The tired weariness creeps in like a shadow, and I’m left alone. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to wish the pain away. But it won’t disappear. I must press on. I must ignore the pain. I must fight the power. Temptation is a tasty treat, laced with poison. I must look away, I must move on. Change the channel–no, shut it off. Move on and find something better to do with your time. Your half an hour wasted could have been spent conquering the world. The warm, soft pillow calls your name, and you forsake it for what? Is it something worthy, worthy of the crusty eyed, don’t talk to me feeling you’ll have in the morning? I want to do so much, say so much, be so much–yet look at the time. It’s almost tomorrow.
It seems that life is quite full of choices. The guy sitting behind me on the train seems to have it all figured out. He’s pulling in a cool 80 g’s a year. But is that all it’s worth? Is life just a race for the almighty dollar? That’s not what life is about, yet so many of us think it is. Is making a buck the most important thing on your agenda? Or is bringing a smile to a young child’s face? Impatience, greed, and anger plague us. While standing on the corner I hear horns of impatient drivers blaring all the time. People are not very nice. Perhaps it’s because we have our eyes focused on the fleeting things of this world. I see so much more in this world, won’t you open your eyes and see it too?
What are you looking at? Who do you want to be? Where do you want to go? I see the faces around me, so many confused and lost souls. So many self assured and confident souls. Their lives are in their hands and they know where they’re going. Or so they think. So many cars back up on these city streets, each one has an owner, each one has a story. Each one has a life of their own. Each one has their own hurts, each one has their own joys. Each one doesn’t know me, and could probably care less about me and the thoughts in my head and the hurts in my heart. But I see them and they see me, and the question is do I care about them and the thoughts in their head and the hurts in their heart? This world has become one crazy mess–or maybe it always was and we just hope for something better–where nobody cares about anyone else. How right is that? What kind of humanity is that? Danger stranger keeps us locked behind our doors, I’m scared of you and you’re scared of me. But is that what we’re called to? I walk down the street, and this closed door and mask pulled tight get us nowhere. I dare to knock at the door and pull the mask away. What will happen if we open the door and let one another in, instead of hide behind our metal bars and racial stereotypes? What happens when you cross the line? It’s not exactly what mommy and daddy taught me.
“In God I have put my trust; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?” (Psalm 56:11 NKJV)
Passion. Intensity. Idealism. The individual. The group. Life. Heartache. Yearning. Longing. Searching. Asking. Trying. Questioning. Action. Hurt. Relief. Wonder. Amazement. Awe. Joy. Sorrow. Loss. Suffering. Sacrifice. Blood, sweat, tears. Puzzlement. Understanding. Belief. Knowledge. Wisdom. Confusion. Doubt. Arrogance. Pride. Contempt. Apathy. Pleasure. Contentment. Faith and the unknown.
I look out my window and see the raging waters. I step out my door and move closer to the surging flood. The water flows, faster than it should, pulling and tugging at everything. It overcomes, it devours, it consumes. And I shall swim upstream.
Life stands before me with so many questions, and so few answers. I turn on the TV and watch a stirring documentary on PBS. The hippies, counter culture, and revolutionists of the sixties and seventies. Where have they gone? Was it simply a revolution of sex, drugs, and rock & roll? What’s the point? You protested your parents’ materialism, racism, and violence, and where are we now? We bombed Saigon, and we bombed Pristina. Where is the life in it all? What does the 40 hours a week get you? Financial security? You call it security, but is it really? Nothing’s certain. There’s no such thing as financial security in this life.
I look back and see your young idealism. Where did it go? In some it’s still alive. In others it’s dim and faded, long since lost in the cobwebs and dust. But I also see your young idealism in the mirror. Will I bow to the same fate? I look about me and wish I could say the same for my generation. In some ways, I can see them waking up. But in other ways, I seem them bowing to the world of freedom and pleasure that you opened for them. Life is one big party, right?
Will this world ever see? Will this world ever understand? Will I ever see? Will I ever understand?
A quick word on the updating of these ponderings: I don’t have daily internet access, so these will probably not be updated everyday. But I will do my best to still write them everyday and update them when I can. You may have noticed some problems today, but hopefully those have all been corrected. Sorry for the inconveniences. Let me know if you notice any problems with the page.
On tonight’s menu, Dinty Moore Beef Stew! And I didn’t ruin it. He’s just a regular Chef Boyardee. (that’ll be tomorrow’s supper)
So many ideas, so many possibilities, so many things to accomplish. I have all these ideas brimming in my head. I wonder where they could go. Henry Ford once said, “You can’t build a reputation on what you are going to do,” (from the wall in ReAL Media Group’s office). I wonder what ideas will come to fruition, and which will be cast aside, never to be.
Sometimes, after you’ve tried everything else in your power, the best solution is just to walk away, and let the problem take care of itself.
We kids go through a lot these days. I wonder how many of us really understand what this life is all about. We’re assaulted with so many images and sound bytes and things to believe in. It’s hard to know what to believe. It’s hard to know who to trust. What others think becomes way too important. What I think becomes way too unimportant. We feel insignificant. But we’re not. We only need to realize our potential. And rise above the crap society throws at us. We need to climb the trees.
Inch thick dust soaking into your pores and the strain of tendons and muscles as you mount the last step with the heavy box. The falling droplets of water, dotting everything and drenching to the skin. The steady lull of windshield wipers and a hazy rain that fogs the window. A metal grate and a ten foot drop. I look through the iron bars, down to the pit below. The lion’s den. The still water mirrors everything, and the gray night sky provides the perfect backdrop. A cool breeze, finally. It’s time to say goodbye. But I just want to sit and stare.