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« Update. Life. Complications. | Main | Bring it On »
Shockingly Beautiful.
June 7, 2006
I love my friend John, and am so heartened by his continued presence in my life. What, has it been 20 years or so of frequently interrupted but still uninterruptible friendship? – taxed by distances of geography, affinity, and occasionally ideology and still so strong.
I remember John driving me in his car in the city. Chicago. It was a sunny day, but winter, and I was wearing my cowely-necked poncho under my black capey thing, and I had the cowel pulled up over my eyes as he drove and was seeing the crisp world in this wonderfully vague and blocky way. I was pretending I was John, which is something I find myself doing often, and looking at the world as shapes and feelings rather than concrete objects. Photographer John. Always inspiring me to look at things in different ways.
And so it is that as I balance on this tilting bridge of love, arms akimbo, I look to John for another way of looking at this complicated emotional topography, lest I focus too closely and fall in a bad way. And John responds, as he always does, with wisdom and a surprisingly concentrated knowledge of Who I Am. And this makes me so happy I want to cry for my good fortune.
I think a lot about my fortunate relationships with people. My heart is open, and while good close proximity-wise friends seem sparse, I feel full with people past present and future who are truly wonderful and inspiring. It is amazing, actually, how wealthy I have been in terms of these relationships. It is how I know that I make good choices when sometimes circumstances might try to convince me otherwise. And some of these friendships have been hard-won and fought for. Even John has not existed in my life without a certain degree of challenge. And yet, when all is said and done, there he is. A flitting constant. Wonderful.
So, about this rickety bridge I am balancing on. I am sick to my stomach and on the verge of tears and absofuckinglutely loving every damn second of it. I am seeing things. Maybe not with a photographer’s eye, but with some kind of vision that is not my typical vision. Today, driving home from work, I spied a tremendous flock of grackles in a tree outside of the mall. They all rose up at once, as if to fly off, but something stopped them and they all impossibly managed to roost in the same tree. I found it difficult to believe that one tree could contain them all without bursting. And that is how my heart feels right now. I am finding myself flying out, only to return and reroost, and each time gathering more and more until I am almost bursting with feathers, beaks, and talons. Yet, although the invisible net draws me back in and back in and back in, I miraculously find the strength to continue to attempt to burst forth and burst forth and burst forth until maybe one day I will break through the net in all of my bird-hearted joy. But for now I am managing, somehow, to refrain from unleashing completely. Gathering myself in this one small tree of me. Hopping from one branch to another. Chirping.
And I am thankful for the inadvertantish wisdom of Caution and Slowness. Me? Typically, I am impatient, needy, and weak. And that is OK, too. Because even though I am bursting, I can be contained. Barely, but it can be done.
My eyes crinkle at the corners as I regard this situation. External to me, I am viewing the geometry of my emotions. With my shirt pulled up over my eyes, I can see shapes and feelings – abstractions rather than concrete desires. I am trying to look at the world with the photographer’s eye, to escape my demanding for immediate action and be content with the back and forth motion of silence and stillness. I am thinking about Right Now. Every Right Now that passes. And though I want and I want and I want, I feel…satisfied with what I Have. Full and empty both. If I listen, I can hear the chatter of a thousand birds. If I listen closer, I can hear the silence in which that chatter echoes.
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