WHERE THE SUN STILL SHINES
(Original Image by Sara Kurfess)
You know, there’s a place where the sun still shines. It may be far away from here, but it’s there.
There’s a place where you can still smell the spring grass rising from the dead of winter.
We get so caught up though in our simple desperate routines, the pinball life between work and home. The increasing acceleration makes it easy to forget not only what it means to be alive, but what it FEELS to be alive. Hedonistic pleasure on its own is an empty bottle. If it’s paired with life, much like salt on a meal, it could be something. On its own though, you’ll shrivel up like so many before you.
Sobriety is not the answer. Sanity is. Not just seeing, but feeling the world on its own terms, feeling its power, respecting its power, recognizing your own limitations, then bobbing and weaving until you find balance. Otherwise, you should probably move to Mars.
A good glass of wine can set the ship straight regardless of the current bullshit. I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. Just think of the sober life, that pilgrim’s walk into the abyss, and understand it is a usurious constraint you place upon yourself, presumably from some need for approval. I recognize the desire, believe me. For decades, I had poured my sense of worth into the hands of other people. My father drilled that into me at an early age. And even though I’ve arrived at the age of reason, so to speak, I still struggle to turn the focus outward, away from myself, so that the flow of life can occur naturally.
My son means more than I ever did. He deserves all the support to propel him forward into his best life. I would hate for him to play the game as blindly as I had. My thirties were spent catching up to the world at large. I want Alex to master this by high school. I want him to know what he’s getting into with each significant step of his life, from the purple lightning storm of fledgling dreams to the grey death of old friendships.
Every life is yet another tidal wave rushing to the shore, crashing against another. There is no reason, only gravity. There is no change, only observation, then, hopefully, acceptance. It’s a brutal fucking world out there. That’s something they don’t emphasize in church or Sunday school. It makes sense though. It’s a bad sales pitch. No one wants to hear that life is suffering. Most want to be protected, surrounded by like-minded masses so that they feel invulnerable, immortal. Surely, they will live forever. The sting of Death will not reach them as long as they parrot the great holy edicts of Christianity, Islam, Liberalism, or whatever the hell seems appealing.
But us born-again cynics know better. It’s all a mighty con. The buzz-saw of infinity awaits us all no matter what we do or how much we delude ourselves, so you may as well unplug. Step outside. Feel the sunlight upon your skin. Smell the grass. Feel the wind over your goose flesh. Start with reality, and work your way outwards. Not the other way around. You may find some truth there, maybe even a little solace, as you accept life on its own terms and press forward into the unknown.
