Thursday, July 30, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
This morning, I decided to catch the sunrise. I had not actually been to sleep, and I had just seen Brian off for home. Here is my reflection, written while I observed the sun rising.
A subtle haze crouches close to the ground, its purpose unknown. Geese are calling out as they glide across a calm water, and a lone duck cleans herself. Fish intermittently break the surface, for food or other reasons, while a man stares longingly, yet emptily, in pursuit of those same elusive creatures. As I walk along this familiar bridge, I pull out my headphones. Yet a voice in me conflicts my desire: "You think you could create a soundtrack to this morning better than what I have in store?"
I put my headphones away and continue to walk. Water cascades in routine fashion over the dam, providing a familiar, soothing sound. The kingly moon seems to gaze even upward still of its own heavenly position. Indistinct treetops fill the horizon on all sides, and just above them, the sky is revealing careful distinction between clouds and solemn space. Even now, the gray-blue void is betraying soft shades of pink, orange and yellow, perhaps hinting at something grand to come. A machine nearby drones its steady tone of work, either measuring or drawing power from the cascading water. Several small birds dot the sky, leaving no trace of flight save an image in my memory.
A mile away, enormous power lines smile across the resevoir, but their smile is a force of habit and not an expression of joy. Docked sailboats hardly shrug as water passes beneath them, nearly unnoticed.
A jet tears through the poloroid sky some great distance from here; I cannot hear it, but I see the unnatural trail it expels. Meanwhile, the poloroid continues to develop, filling the crevices of earth with light and revealing greater color overhead.
I'm not lonely, but I'm struggling with the desires of emotional intimacy. I've been warned not to "arouse or awaken love until it so desires." Right now, that only begs the question: WHEN does love so desire? Would these incredibly urges for emotional intimacy be a signal fire that love desires an awakening? Why is the expression of selfless love through self-restraint such a painful challenge?
The sun has finally streaked above the curtain of trees to warmly make eye contact. The geese have withdrawn from the water, and it is quieter. The resevoir now clearly reflects the very sky and clouds responsible for carrying it away in small doses to foreign plaes. The reflection of the sun resembles an inverted torch, as if defying gravity. The vast orb itself still rises slowly, maintaining ever-increasingly bold and persuasive eye contact. I can bare to look no more, instead forced to acknowledge all that has been revealed in the light.
These emotions I hold are not secret. I have freely shared and embraced those who inquire of my feelings. Yet an aching lingers heavily, as though I haven't expressed what I feel in the necessary direction. "Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires." Do you so desire, and would you tell me if you didn't?