I wrote about a new place. And then I wrote about new pages. A new notebook.
And yet, I’m more concerned with the things that stay the same. Digging out the bits of universal human wisdom. For that is Truth.
But now I wonder. Am I not a being of change? Have I lost sight of the human while searching, seeking… for the Human? So for the first time in my life… I will explore change.
Forgive me. I’m scared.
So first, I will start from a familiar place. The past. Of course, in order to do that, I must give context. That place. The new one that I’ve described. I’m still here. My stay has been longer than usual. Much longer. It is a gentle place but I fear I may be here awhile longer. Like I said, I never know when I leave. It’s not up to me. I might as well get comfortable. So I decided to look around. It’s different here. It’s quieter, but not quite lonelier. Not yet, at least… Naturally, it’s as imaginary as the one from which I came.
My bed is tiny. They call them “twin beds.” I never understood that. And what exactly about the king makes him Californian? Are these not the questions I refer to when I say that I am hunting for Truth? Yes, the bed is oddly small. Everything is small here. Including me. My body, my thoughts. They have shrunk. No, not shrunk. They have condensed. Yes, that’s the word. Everything is so much clearer here. As if I can see my life laid out in front of me. I think they call that space. Maybe that’s what this place is. Maybe it’s Space.
No. That’s not true. I can step out the front door without getting sucked into a vacuum. I think that’s a funny image. I’m sure Kurt Vonnegut once wrote about a global pandemic in which Earth slowly lost its atmosphere. The only hope was to seal every inch of one’s home so as not to get sucked into the void. Of course, people couldn’t resist. They would open their front doors. So it goes.
But not me. My atmosphere is crystal clear. I’ve never been in this place long enough to venture outside. I have barely explored the interior. But I have been here for so so so long that I just had had had to venture out. What I found I have yet to process. Please bear with me. And if you can see that which I fail to, please enlighten me.
I was surprised. Outside my front door I saw rows of houses. I couldn’t tell if they were inhabited. Turning around, I saw my own facade. I have never seen the outside of this place before. It looked like all the rest. From the outside I would never have known that someone was living inside. That I was living inside.
It’s eerie to see rows of identical structures. They went on as far as I could see. I paced the streets. They were empty. In a way I’m glad I did not see anyone. What would I say? And what could they possibly be doing in a place like this? There was a gated pool in the middle. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was empty. Maybe that’s why they put the gate up. To protect wanderers like me from cannonballing into concrete. I opened the gate. I walked to the deep end.
My toes were hanging over the edge. I glanced down before my feet. Suddenly there was water. I saw my reflection. I didn’t look happy. Nor was my face sad. It just was. That terrified me. I closed my eyes. The water could have disappeared, but I bent my knees like a little kid and jumped as high as my twenty-some year old legs would let me and waved all four limbs like a child’s first time off a high dive. I floated. Up and up and up and up and up.
From above I could see this new place much better. From above I could see it all. I could see… it all.
I flew back to my cookie cutter house with the joy that surely Icarus must have felt. One must imagine Icarus smiling on his way down. Please don’t roll your eyes, Al. May I call you that? I doubt you care. Now that’s funny. And I imagine you think so too if you could follow my internal dialogue with dead existential authors.
I closed the door behind me. That was enough for one day. I couldn’t shake what I saw from above. And that’s what brought me to write this. I told you that I needed to give context. I hope you now see why. For it is not every day that you see your own life from a bird’s eye view.
From the skies I saw me. And I saw the world. I saw myself standing still. I was looking for something. But around me the world sped by. I couldn’t believe all of the things that I saw whiz by me. Such beautiful things. Places I had never seen before. People I had never met. People that I… would never meet. For my eyes were elsewhere. Looking. Searching. Seeking. But for what?
“THE TRUTH!” the choir of Orlando’s angels yell. “THE TRUTH, THE TRUTH, THE TRUTH!”
This whole time I believed the Truth was something to be seen. I was wrong. It’s something to be experienced. Something to be hunted, for it is a trail we must chase not a vision we seek.
I wanted to shout at the people passing by as my other self stared into nothingness. The people I could have connected with if only I had gotten out of my own way. If only I had seen them. Maybe that’s the purpose of this entire place. All I have known from here is imaginary conversations with real people. But I’ve realized these conversations never happen when I return. This place is static. They are frozen moments. In my mind one second, gone the next. Moments that could be but never are. It is I. Not unstuck in time but trapped in the past.
I sought Truth. I believed that Truth was that which does not change. So I never changed. And oh what I have missed out on. I must change. I must learn to change. I must I must I must and yet I feel the chains of my past life gripping my wrists as I try to break free from them because I want to change I do I do I promise I do and I swear that I will. I want out of this place. I want to go home. My real home. But I am trapped. Please someone be in these houses next to me. Please someone knock on my door and let me open it and let it be a vacuum that sucks me out of here and back to my real life. If you are out there. Please.
-- Bravo on crafting a piece that invites contemplation and sparks a meaningful dialogue on the complexities you’ve masterfully unveiled. xo.
Wisdom, I have heard it said, is the ability to follow one's own good advice.
So remember... those chains on your wrists are illusory. And even if they're locked; who do you think has the key?
Remember... one must go out.