Walking
In the place where I live now, people go by in various intensities of walking — people going to and coming from work, students walking to class or on their way home, vendors peddling their wares, and thousands of other pedestrians going about their business.
At least twice a day I am part of this walking mass of people. I slip into the mass adroitly, walk a little ways to my daily commute, and then slip out of the mass at just the right moment so as not to disturb the beat and tempo of the busy and determined congregation. I, too, am busy and determined. At least I try to be, because I do have certain important things to deal with, things that require my presence, my skill, my energy, and my concentration. These are not exactly matters of national importance, but matters that are important to me, so that I can earn my keep, so that I can be useful to the human race, so that everyday I can become better than the person I was the day before.
Sometimes I wonder about all those people I walk with every day. What goes on in their minds as they walk? Do they count their steps? Do they try to recall a dream they had the night before? Do they ponder over breakfast or dinner possibilities? Do they tick off lists in their head? Do they wonder what kind of emails they will be getting that day? Do they wonder what happened to the email they were expecting to get that day but didn't? Do they wonder what their children are doing? Do they think about their finances, their laundry, their health, the locks on their doors? Do they sing in their heads?
And do they allow their thoughts to meander toward matters beyond the tedium of the day-to-day? Do they ponder over potentially life-changing decisions? Do they wonder about past choices they did not take? Do they think about the environment, the state of the country, and the human condition? Do they wonder about the future?
I do. My mind is always a whirlwind of thoughts when I walk to work and back. Ideas, memories, decisions, details, and songs swirl together like a storm inside my head, words colliding with colors colliding with aromas colliding with faces colliding with sounds. But even in the dark, twisting, heaving maelstrom, one very small dot of quiet floats around constantly, carrying its own light, sustaining its own buoyancy. That dot contains my thoughts of you: steady, clear, knowable.
Though you remain far from me, and stay connected to me only through the benefit of fiber-optic cables that span the entire globe like a spiderweb, everything you have ever given me — information, stories, songs, laughter, tears, hurt, worry, hope, promises, love, memories — get stored inside this dot. This dot is what keeps me in circulation in the land of the living, keeps me in step with the crowd of people that are aiming to get through life in one piece. In that dot, I find a handhold on love.
[Image credits: 1, 2]
At least twice a day I am part of this walking mass of people. I slip into the mass adroitly, walk a little ways to my daily commute, and then slip out of the mass at just the right moment so as not to disturb the beat and tempo of the busy and determined congregation. I, too, am busy and determined. At least I try to be, because I do have certain important things to deal with, things that require my presence, my skill, my energy, and my concentration. These are not exactly matters of national importance, but matters that are important to me, so that I can earn my keep, so that I can be useful to the human race, so that everyday I can become better than the person I was the day before.
Sometimes I wonder about all those people I walk with every day. What goes on in their minds as they walk? Do they count their steps? Do they try to recall a dream they had the night before? Do they ponder over breakfast or dinner possibilities? Do they tick off lists in their head? Do they wonder what kind of emails they will be getting that day? Do they wonder what happened to the email they were expecting to get that day but didn't? Do they wonder what their children are doing? Do they think about their finances, their laundry, their health, the locks on their doors? Do they sing in their heads?
And do they allow their thoughts to meander toward matters beyond the tedium of the day-to-day? Do they ponder over potentially life-changing decisions? Do they wonder about past choices they did not take? Do they think about the environment, the state of the country, and the human condition? Do they wonder about the future?
I do. My mind is always a whirlwind of thoughts when I walk to work and back. Ideas, memories, decisions, details, and songs swirl together like a storm inside my head, words colliding with colors colliding with aromas colliding with faces colliding with sounds. But even in the dark, twisting, heaving maelstrom, one very small dot of quiet floats around constantly, carrying its own light, sustaining its own buoyancy. That dot contains my thoughts of you: steady, clear, knowable.
Though you remain far from me, and stay connected to me only through the benefit of fiber-optic cables that span the entire globe like a spiderweb, everything you have ever given me — information, stories, songs, laughter, tears, hurt, worry, hope, promises, love, memories — get stored inside this dot. This dot is what keeps me in circulation in the land of the living, keeps me in step with the crowd of people that are aiming to get through life in one piece. In that dot, I find a handhold on love.
[Image credits: 1, 2]
posted by Maryanne Moll | 12:01 AM
1 Comments:
Awesome Work keep it up.
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