With physical objects, it's so easy. I can watch trees grow, die, fertilize. I can watch beaches expand, contract, disappear. More difficult to observe are ideas, notions, friends, beliefs. Over time, they change. Over time, you alienate yourself. But do you see this? Is it observable?
Like most things, I noticed this when examining myself. This weekend was my nephew's second birthday, and I spent a while with both sides of my "family"; both biological and expanded. My takeaway from this was a small game I played with my nephew and his aunt--a game of running, and hugs, and laughing; simplicity. Evan--my nephew--ran back and forth between his extended family and offered hug after hug. But it wasn't the sort of thing one does; these were hugs, things borne of love and desire. Borne from a need to express something deeper than words ever can.
A long time ago, I would have laughed at this. It's easy to make jokes about stuff and be distant. It's my natural state of being; the less I care about something, the easier I can deal with it. But watching a person--albeit a tiny two-year old with no concerns about what is cool or what isn't--engage in something pure was revelatory.
Maybe it says something about modern culture. The internet and text messaging and popular culture and being cool and having fun all come from a sense of aloofness. We try to hide it and mask it under our predilections and ideals and charitable causes and the other things we don't spend enough time on, but the point is we don't spend enough time on each other in a direct sense. It's so easy to say "I love you," but demonstrating that in a quantifiable way scares me. It scares everyone. It's our motivation each day to prove we are above satisfying ourselves. And we find ways to obfuscate and distract from that, but the reason you can't sleep well at night is because you know "I could have tried harder."
And I'm reminded of my nephew. So pure, so able to love regardless of the horrible things I've done to my friends and family. So able to forgive me for putting myself ahead of everyone, even those who needed help the most. So eager to welcome me even though I shut out those around me because I say I don't want to hurt them but really I'm afraid of them hurting me.
And I think of change. Turning around and looking at yourself... Imagine a dusty road in the American southwest (or, for the weird Russian guy reading this, somewhere in fuckin' Moscow or whatever) where you walk, thirsty and weary. It feels like months since you've rested, and sometimes the thought of going any farther shakes you to your core. So turn around. You see everything you've left behind--every friend, every significant other you left because you couldn't commit, every decision you didn't make because stagnation was comfortable and why change that, every branch and extension and change you could have made that may have brought you to where you wanted to be. And you fall to your knees.
And blink.
There's a shift--the sun hits everything just so--and things seem clearer. The shadows fall at a particular degree, and you realize that you made mistakes; stupid, growing-up-too-quick mistakes. The kind that everyone makes in the rush to be someone before you know what kind of person you want to be. And it clicks. It's a matter of perspective.
I'll apologize until the day I die to those I've wronged, because I know now what it means to hurt another. But every step I've taken until this point has been worth it. I can see the bad--god, can I see the bad in myself and the things I've done--but I always see the good. I see the steps I took to reach this point and know I needed to take them. That's no excuse, no shaking off of my demons. Am I remorseful? Yes, of course. But only because of what I know now.
Sometimes you look at a thing and see it. Really, really see it: the crevasses and imperfections and hand-made warts. Other times, you can step back and see how it affects the world. Either way, it's a gift. Just taking notice of how the sun strikes it can be enough. Sometimes.
Until an asteroid,
Adam
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