Monday, June 13, 2011

Passing Through

I want to consume the world. Or I want the world to consume me. Not sure which.

There are moments that I open up and I can feel it so much. It is a tingling sensation in my body, a radiating yellow-orange warmth. From there my body becomes part of the harmonious. The world passes gently through me, if only for a moment.

Today, on the lawn in the backyard, I felt the world for a moment. The sun burst through the clouds. The grass became a brilliant green. Mama's house was a colonial white, perfectly contrasted against the blue sky. Clouds drifted by. The trees shushed in the breeze. I sat on a faded pink blanket with Ciera and read my book. I drifted off and felt at peace.

Searching for jobs is a full-time job. I take the brief moments of respite in stride. I find comfort in the love that surrounds me. People I cherish, who are on this Earth for a limited but unspecified time, give me so much. Kerry happily lets me pet her, she is a cat who has aged without me noticing. She will disappear from this world far before I do. And I am happy to give her attention.

I helped Ciera with her monologue today. She recited it over and over to me. We worked out the kinks, found the human in the words on the page. Chekhov is nothing special; that is what makes him special. I did not understand it at first. But now I do. He is renowned because he captured it without trying, he let the world into him, and he gave it back just as it was. He put humanity on paper. And his writing is interesting because it is boring.

The world does not escape my notice; sometimes it passes through untouched—unfiltered. I am searching for significance, but maybe that's my problem. The art of transcending is one of not trying. But to do so, one must try very hard at first. It is a constant battle, a training that will come after the last shot has been fired, an effortless change that was there all along.

I know this, but I cannot make it part of my being, yet. The battle rages on but for the moments of peace behind the Maginot lines.