Because it’s Sunday
And Sunday is idle. And when I’m inactive, I think. And sometimes when I think I decide to try and wax poetic.
Rio Verde
Under the waterfall, where two
Rivers combine, their waters green and brown,
You went further up the rocks (don’t know why)
And slipped, cut your hand, wet your shoe
Then you walked the bridge, where a girl
Bounced, reckless, and you were afraid, angry.
I took your picture–you smiled, uneasy–
It was underexposed, blurry.
I bought you a Coke; you didn’t
Tell me, but I knew you had no money.
You wiped blood on your shirt and asked me to
Go with you down to the river
We saw a monkey and butterflies,
And you showed me rocks that you had penciled.
You put one rock on top of another.
This is art, you said. I nodded.
You dipped your toes in the river
And then wet your hair. Perhaps, I thought,
He is close to God. On the way back,
I waved to your friend, tending his
Garden–sweaty, happy, vital.
When we left, he planted, covered, and hoped.
You said that you weren’t ever going to leave,
That you would live here forever.
I thought of my home, Dinosaur Rocks,
Dad’s garden in summer, Joe Silvers’ pond,
My one year as a vegetarian,
Cash spent on iPods, jeans, Starbucks.
You said you don’t know how to use
Email and put my bike on the rear of
The combi. I waved good-bye, and I went
Back to town, back to my hostal.
In the morning, I took the bus
Out and sat next to a boy selling gum.
I wondered what you were doing, what made
You happy today. Have you stacked
Any rocks? Have you put your feet
In the river? Helped your friend till his land?
Climbed up to the top of the waterfall?
What did you drink to quench your thirst?
Months later, when I was rushing to get to work,
I cut my hand on the rusted bicycle wheel
In my garage, and I thought about you.
I wondered if you were resting on the footbridge–
right then–watching the children swim, deciding to
fish, and living a long and happy life.
What does it all mean?
On my trip, I kept a list of questions that I wanted to address while I was away from Normal. The list of questions, which I drafted about a week before I left, consisted of, “30 years from now, what do I want to have accomplished in my life?”, “When I’m dead and gone, what do I want my legacy to be?”, “Where do I want to be right now; what do I want to be doing?”, “If money weren’t a factor, what would I do for the next five years of my life?”, “How much of a factor is money to me?”, among several others.
Over the month’s time, I reached answers for every question that I left with–the resolutions of which were established over many moods and considerations and influences. That is one of the reasons why my trip was a success. I had (and used) time for reflection about the past, introspection concerning the present, and a projection of the future. I don’t know enough about enlightenment to say that anything I experienced while away from Normal was similar to this edification. But, I do know that there were many times when I felt as if some greater force had taken a good, solid grip on my forearm and jerked me so hard that I lost my footing. I also know that during those times I felt emotional, centered, beautiful, and alive. Today, my task becomes bridging the gap between what I know I will do and when I will do it.
Years ago, I watched the movie “The Truman Show”, and elements of that movie resound within me today. In the same vein as Truman, I feel that I have discovered that the life I’m living is contrived; I feel I’m traveling a path that I’m not meant to travel, one that will eventually lead to my being lost, alone, cold, hungry, and afraid. I feel, like Truman, that I need to know: “What does it all mean?” I’m sure that it will mean many things over time, but what I would like to know is, at any given time, What does it all mean? I feel, like Truman, that I don’t have to accept the superficial reality of the world with which I am presented. I can explore other worlds, I can do things that are unprecedented, I can make a different life for myself–a Life Authentic.
I feel, like Truman, that I would like to go to Fiji. Today. No questions asked. Pay the money, schlep the luggage, flash the ticket, board the plane, and one non-REM sleep later wake up in a paradise. I feel, like many feel, five days a week when we keep routine (awaking, preparing, feeding, traveling, arriving, performing, socializing, returning, feeding, sleeping, repeating), that I don’t understand what it all means. I want to know, if I live this life, when I die, for what will it have all been? How many days of status quo and being unsettled must we all accept? How much time, in my short life, will I have spent lamenting the ways that I carried out the norm and regretting the course that I chose to do so?
I like to think of times when I was a little girl. I loved adventure and the unknown and contrasts and change. Unearthing these changes within myself remind me that I’m still the little girl that I was 20 years ago in Kentucky.
There exists a flutter in the heart when you discover something new and exciting about yourself. There also exists some inner-turmoil in rectifying the changes between “the you then” and “the you now”. My consciousness is guiding me through this commotion. My heart, my spirituality, and the memories of the times when I was a little girl are providing comfort towards the development of my plan for the future.
And so is my courage. Because I, like Truman, will eventually decide to take that leap, get in a boat, paddle through storms to the edge of my world, and find a new world, far away from Normal, in which to live a Life Authentic.
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