I made a new rule this summer. No talking to me when I'm looking at beautiful things. It falls on my list of general life rules right below 'no talking to me early in the morning.' They are similar in that each of these times I am floating in a plane that doesn't quite feel mortal. When I'm looking at something beautiful, I'm in heaven. When it's the morning, I'm in hell. Either way, leave me alone.
Please don't lie next to me on a beach, wait until the fireworks are twinkling just above us, and then ask me what color the dress I'm wearing tomorrow is. Or what my roommate's job is. Or when I last spoke to someone I despise to my very core. This is not the place for human chit chat. The pattern of sounds right now is firework, BOOM, "ooooooh," repeat. But thanks to you it now goes firework, BOOM, "Oooooh," "My roommate's girlfriend just gave him a key to her place, so he'll probably move soon, or at the very least he won't be around too much, which works well for me because I've started teaching trumpet lessons in the living room, and now that I have the extra money from the trumpet lessons, maybe I won't need to find a new Craigslist roommate when he moves in with his girlfriend," repeat. Not as spectacular.
This whole 'being human' thing keeps us on the ground in a way that can be frustrating at times. I don't mean physically on the ground. That's the gravity thing that does that. I mean, that being human keeps our minds grounded in the human world, even when we could be experiencing something above the quotidian. Don't get me wrong, grounded in the human world is a solid place to be. I'll take it over most alternatives most of the time. But beauty has the power to lift us up and bring us somewhere larger than this little world we scoot around in every day. And whenever I am lucky enough to be there for a moment, I want to stay as long as possible. All this human talk pulls me back to Earth earlier than I'd care to go.
I feel the same way after I've seen a beautiful performance-- a play or a concert that cuts straight into my soul. That sort of experience has a vibration that resonates within us if we give it the opportunity. We don't have to let it go the second it's over. We can linger in the beauty.
That being said, does anyone know how to do this? All I've got right now is silence. But silence is really hard. Because if there wasn't someone next to me pulling me back to Earth, I have no doubt that my chatty mind would jump in and bring me back until I'm just sitting with my butt on the sidewalk, thinking about some time when my butt was on a different sidewalk, not even noticing the amazing life in front of me.
Noticing our lives is an ongoing quest that starts over every day. And I don't think it's possible without work. But I think it's possible if we get quiet every once in a while. Remember how I mentioned I have a rule 'no talking to me early in the morning?' Well, that rule is partially imposed by me, who isn't exactly up for conversation, but it's mostly imposed by every human I've ever come into contact with in the morning, who isn't keen on miserable dealings with a grumpy beast. Maybe there's something here. I'm not saying be a grump to other people (they tend not to dig this), but maybe we can be a grump to our own nagging mind chatter. Maybe we can create an inhospitable environment for the stressful, human thoughts, and linger in the beauty a little longer. Maybe...
Love Love Love,
Kat
So I guess people shouldn't talk to me when I'm looking at you..
ReplyDeleteSorry, sometimes the opening is too large to not walk through ::)