Ah…I’ve been a bad poster this month. Life getting in the way and all that. As they say, crap happens. Some days, it’s just more crap than usual.
Wandering the crowded southern California landscape as I have been of late, I notice many things about its bipedal denizens. What strikes me most is the air of urgency, of entitlement, and of myopic vision. That is, many seem to see only what’s right in front of them–blocking their way–and do not take time to really be in the moment. To really see their surroundings. To understand that the suffocating concrete wilderness that they call home is perhaps a trap; even more, to understand that it is one of their own making.
Sometimes people here do not seem to be really living. They’re existing, sure. But are they paying attention to their own existence? Do they really know who they are and what the heck they’re doing, as they zoom and carom around, pinging off one another with barely an honest glance, intent on hurrying to the goal of–what, exactly? The all-powerful god of mass consumerism? Getting through the day in order to fall insensate before the altar of surround sound and 24-hour satellite channels beamed in from around this frantically spinning globe?
I want to reach out. I want to hug someone with jumpy, flat eyes, and say, Go. Go to a truly wild spot, one with fresh air and solitude and a tree with which you can commune in silence for an hour. Remove yourself from the madding crowd for just a moment, and blunder and stumble your way back to who you really are.
Perhaps then we can really talk. Perhaps then you will meet my eyes and look at me, really see me, and allow yourself a deep, cleansing breath as you pause in the midst of the chaos we call modern life.
Or maybe not.