Sometimes life makes you feel like a yo-yo. Maybe it's emotional. The inner workings of the mind and heart don't always match. And it's your loved one that pays the price. You give them the silent treatment, whine or complain, or even outright yell. The varied levels of displeasure mirror the art of communication itself. Wicked and lovely at the same time.
Maybe it's physical. The world working its magical voodoo powers on your body. Sickness or pain or exhaustion from a schedule you can't control. Or at least feel as if you can't control. An overwhelming feeling that someone out there is not watching over you. They're playing hooky. And those relished pleasures of the past seem to wink at you from across each room you enter. Unfortunately, you're unable to relish, your only response is "I haven't got the time".
Maybe it's a mixture of both. There can't be any mental release of physical or emotional suspense. Just more suspension. Over a wide expanse of sandy earth; the same color of brown starting to eat away at your sensory perception. How many times have you thought "Just get it over with"? At least it would be something new.
Well, what if that something new did happen to you?
What if that something hit you right between the eyes? Like a screw being driven into your skull. Piercing you into focus, it can make your knees weak. You may fall to the ground, wet with perspiration. You're a puddle; a mass of fluid acceptance, awaiting your fate. With relish.
Finally, something to awaken your senses. Is it a person? The beautiful woman at the grocery store? Your toddler's latest oatmeal-crusted grin? Is it a moment? Did someone important to you give you a look of pride? Did you watch a seagull catch a gust of hot air? Did you shiver in horror and relief as someone else was in an accident?
Whatever it is, we hold on to it. Those things are the green oases amidst the never-ending desert. We hold on to them because we want to possess that part of ourselves that loves, and hopes, and wonders. We want to possess it so badly, it's hard to imagine that we could be loved, or hopeful, or wondered at, without that anchor.
I think we could be. We could be all those beautiful things, without having to hold on to that anchor. If we are looking down at that wide expanse of sandy earth and hoping to glance upon an oasis, what if we managed to turn our heads towards the sky and clouds?
What would we see then?