I’m going to take you on a little sit down with me to IKEA, one of my haunts for this sort of thing; my observation of individuals and humanity. They are separate things.
I crutched my way though the warm parking lot, past people who were ever so curious about what I did to my foot (cuboid fracture). Little and sometimes not so little glances at the large black immobilization boot I choose instead of a cast. Perhaps they worried it was catchy, maybe a new style would emerge: green hair, body modifications and a large black boot to thump attention.
Cool air inside and the sounds of people shuffling, sneakers squeaking on polished floors, voices reflecting off the same polish, sounding slightly tinny, metallic. The escalator looked at me with shiny metal teeth, and there was just a slight trepidation about stepping on them, having to adjust my position with the crutch so I wouldn’t stumble or get eaten by the thing. I survived to the top.
For the most part people made way, the majority of them very generous with their space and any assistance they could offer if they saw potential need for it. That was a neat feeling, having helping hands and not expecting or desiring it; I like doing things on my own. We all do I think. Just that two-year old in us that got bigger. But I let people hold doors for me if they want, it does make it easier to get through the things - and you can actually see some people enjoy doing the task. A welcome smile and a sense of satisfaction comes across their features. I like seeing that.
I get my food and a little 4-wheeled cart to roll it with, making my way to a table farther away from the main group of observation-ites than I wished, but there were many people here today and I took what I could. And I sat, and ate, and then sat some more. People passed by looking at the man in the white shirt, as he looked at them. About three hours of it, eating my main course and finally easing into sipping my water and taking a nibble or two from my chocolate cake-covered fork - all the while, attending my notepad with my pen: fine, black ball point. I write in columns from the right to the left down the page, my poetry also. Been doing that for many many years, feels right, and my thoughts flow. The following is certainly not all I thought, but it’s what I wrote, just a little peering into my mind this day.
Does it fade? So many little happenings assail us, attach to us, wedge between us…is the connection only present when we pull ourselves from view ? When the night closes and we fatigue against one another? Perhaps starting something, perhaps only drifting off near the other’s embrace? Of all the people here, very few, omitting parent and child, touch – something I observe for long periods.
Perhaps it is my playful nature, my need to share on a physical level that makes me aware of this absence in others. The parents each attend a child, though not each other.
Ha! A man just touched me on the shoulder, "excuse me, can I borrow your salt and pepper?"
I reply, "sure" and slide them across the table. No doubt he had read my thoughts and wanted to prove me wrong.
Such bright color on such subdued persons, what wants to get out?
We are a quiet order, obeying the subtlety of civilization; dress this way, interact in this manner; be not outspoken unless you are a child, have a personal injustice to address, are rude, obnoxious, or inebriated; are on meds, off meds, or narcotics, bio-chemically over-emotional, distraught or traumatized… What was holding us together again? Oh yeah: we want to be next to each other. We want family.
And by darn it, family just has to accept us.
My foot is telling me the weather. Just how does a bone break suddenly gain a degree in predictive meteorology? And accurate, too. Suppose the fact it tries to direct my thoughts is what bothers me; I like my thoughts going to far more creative pursuits, or coming from them. Not sure just how it all works up here, why mind flows from and to pathways I find interesting and need to put to paper. If only you could see what doesn't make it here. I have yet been able to accurately describe the "feel" of my thoughts, the imagery and “presence” of the “all-at-once”. Until I've created the words, I'll not be able to define it, but then would come the challenge of trying to articulate for you their meaning. Sometimes I think it's a silly pursuit, that and too exhaustive. How best does one create meaning?
I might as well ask my foot.
I so enjoy color, shape, and movement. The color “laughter” conveys the delicate and hearty mechanism pathways to a freed heart. Eyes tell me the hidden, the desire, the soft that needs protecting. Deception is there too, anger, sadness and yes; life, so vibrant it's splashes about me inspired, bumping my thoughts, my body, to another energy level.
Shyness, boldness, sensuality, sexuality…I connect a little there. I like to immerse and explore that powerful presence/field/animal. It has its own movement, color, shape, is quite simply tied to my breath. Like laughter, I suppose. Conveys a freed heart...and body.
