It’s Space I See There, It’s You I See There
What could be gentler in life than a backward glance
When I typically move so swiftly through my day
(and what is a day but a microcosm of an entire lifespan?)
My gaze almost always focused inward, chasing the swarm of fireflies that occupy my thoughts
The to-do lists, the work, the chores, the necessity of tending to
My physique, my child rearing, my health regimen, my finances, my books, my writing, my doctor appointments, my friends.
I chase all these things so that I can remain
- Steady, orderly, controlled, vested
But also creative, youthful, passionate
- In fits and starts, where time and space allow.
I crave a balance between the two: the youthful artistry, the wise accountability.
A balance that stays and gently trembles –a lever on a fulcrum.
Like an industrious fox, I run through my day
Grass bending beneath my feet, morning’s breath stinging my cheeks
I crash through tall weeds, bound over rocks, crawl through burrows
Racing time, challenging the number of minutes that can be squeezed
The sun dips, the shadows lengthen, the moon rises, the stars wheel
And still I run
Running, I suppose, from listlessness, from meaninglessness
Working hard to prove, vis a vis constancy, that It (my life) all amounts to something
Running so that the monument I build (my life’s work) will defeat the void
And triumph over the death that will ultimately claim me
- A triumph that could very well take the form of just the simple and warm remembrance by those loved ones (my children) whom I will, one day, leave behind
(I mean nothing diminutive in the word just, for to be remembered at all is a tall compliment)
It’s natural to run
But it’s also vanity - that swarm of fireflies that sounds the start gun
Vanity coupled with practicality because industriousness can, in the end, expand the hour glass
So, imagine my surprise, then
When I turn a corner, racing blindly
Full speed ahead
And notice in the blur of my rush, suddenly, something that is
Poised, calm, compassionately curious
in its observation of all the silly busy-ness of those creatures that stumble in their scurry
It’s you I see there.
Or rather, it’s our love for one another
- it’s my love for you, your love for me
(For, like me, you are not immune to the shrill and imperious cry of to-do lists – goddamn, they are akin to the undeniable whistle of a tightly scheduled locomotive. The Polar Express).
It’s space I see there
Space to allow myself the curiosity you awaken in me
Curiosity so vigorous that it demands I slow my roll
It bends my neck to pause long enough so that I can
Gaze at you, study you, contemplate you
And feel the warm bath of your gaze in kind, your curiosity in kind
Together, we rest suspended
Impervious to the swarm of fireflies
True, we might be suspended for just a moment
- but it’s an awesomely sweet and tender moment
A moment to ease into the co-discovery of the home we are to one another
This home that sounds a different kind of whistle
That casts a different quality of light
It’s not a light that illuminates our ticked-off accomplishments
Nor a light that permits us to continue our relentless march forward
(No, not that. We have too much of that “next step forward” stuff)
Instead, it’s a cocooning kind of light.
That soft glow inside a lantern that captures the serenity of stars.
A lantern that lets us swivel our focus and rest our road-worn paws
Lower our expedient wings and dip our parched beaks into cool, soothing water
It’s a moment in time where the roar of life quiets
- Dampened, muted, a rush forgotten just long enough
To permit us to touch our noses, brush them just gently in a butterfly kiss
A moment that lets the exhausted grass on our treaded path spring to standing
- No longer trampled, no longer crushed
But little blooms of pulsing life that push love upward
Reminding us that this, really, is what we are all about.
Those fleeting moments of serene pause where we can rest, finally, in each other.