6.26.2007

By Coming Here

I have realized that my imagination is more important than my opinion, that I can persevere even when I don’t want to, that how things begin is seldom how they end. I have discovered that there is more anger and pain in the world than imaginable, that we have forgotten much about joy, but that many discoveries are just a moment away. I have witnessed the universal longing for connection and the various ways that individuals seek to reach out, that it is often easier to reach forward to the distant stranger than to reach across the room to someone who shares your life.

Daily we move furiously past the familiar faces we don't slow to meet because we think what we want is further down the road, and we tell ourselves that we must race to get there or else. Or else. Or else we will be here with what we don’t quite want. Wanting what we have is a lost art because we believe the commercials of endless promises laced with temptation. Or endless temptation laced with promises.

We are more confused than we admit.

But somehow at some point in some day something sneaks in. A sunset glowing red and orange. A small child waddling with chubby little legs in a soggy and sagging bathing suit. A glimpse of dolphins leaping through the air. These small things invite us back, remind us of what to celebrate. A taste against our tongue. A stranger holding the door. A task accomplished. And if we go to sleep with these small things in our mind, we stand a chance. We wake up with a smile and savor more of the next day because we’ve digested a clue.

And we cling to this sensation of nourishing fullness that fills our chest, to this encounter with happy. We think that if we could bottle and sell it, we would be rich because everyone wants this same feeling. But despite our promises to self, despite our desire, the fullness vanishes, drifts away into the air. We just can’t hold on.

The feeling roams looking for a home in need, and when you’re lucky it descends upon you.



12 comments:

QT said...

Or else we will be here with what we don’t quite want.

I suffer from this malady.

I also suffer from a block that does not allow me to ever post anything eloquent or clever in your comment section. I am always just saying "I like this" or "This is wonderful".

I wish I could be more constructive.

But I DO like it ~ and it is wonderful.

deb said...

Too true, especially the part about wanting what we already have.

Kathleen said...

your writing is just so good.
so so so good.
i wish i could put it more eloquently...you definately deserve more than just "good"...
but i am left speechless...sitting here with a dumb stare, absorbing all of the meaning and truth...

sigh.

jen said...

something sneaks in...yes.

if we are listening. friend, man..i've been missing your writing...so glad to see this today.

we DO stand a chance. we owe ourselves that amidst the confusion.

darkdarling said...

It's a pleasant journey to view your work.

Cheers!

kristen said...

yes. this is a problem for me, and only recently i've been able to recognize that. being able to appreciate my life now, the way it is, has been sweet.

Neil said...

On the first read, I found myself upset, despite the beautiful words, because you describe this fullness as fleeting and out of our control, and everyone likes to be in charge of their own life all the time. But I guess happiness is a little of accepting the fact that it is something that comes and goes and then returns again.

thailandchani said...

This is, quite simply, a beautiful post. Thanks for writing it.. because I needed to hear it. :)


Peace,

~chani

stephoto said...

This is completely true and quite beautiful. It pretty much says it all. Thank you.

Delton said...

Nearly every time I come here, I find myself returning to the same post for days. I keep trying to think of something, anything to add, yet always end up clicking away after a few minutes when the realization settles in that I don't have the words to put to what I've read.

I was pleasantly surprised to see many others leaving the same type of comment. We may not feel able to turn it into a conversation, but we are awed by your eloquence just the same.

BOB13 said...

First:

The line "We wake up with a smile and savor more of the next day because we've digested a clue" is my new favorite line of all-time. Thank you for the reminder. This line may have resonated with me--brought me to tears, actually--because I just spent a few beautiful days with my family, who I've come to appreciate in a way I never thought possible. Your words once again articulated exactly what's been swirling around in my heart. Thank you for your eloquence and insight. And having read your blog from the start, I'm so happy your audience is growing, glowing and grateful.

Secondly, to those people who are moved by the words on this blog but don't feel eloquent or profound enough to weigh in with their comment, I sympathize with you. That's how good the writing is here. But what makes it so good is how Deezee pinpoints our shared fears, disappointments--and joys. We're all in this together. Everyone's opinion, in whatever shape that emerges, has value. Anything is better than silence. Feedback is fuel.

Deezee said...

A confession on top of a confession: this post almost didn't get posted because I couldn't imagine you out there wanting to read it, so thank you for your comments that show me that I really don't know what I'm doing here but I'll keep doing it. You've all made me blush.