“You are right. But so is 100. You earned each of your years by the minute, the day, the month, the year. You can walk a hundred extra steps. You can eat 100 less calories. And you can do 100 push-ups. You don’t have to do it all at once. Make or take a minute for small choices. You can choose a smile instead of a complaint. You can give a hug to remember what humanity is all about. Age is just a number. And it relentlessly piles up behind you, an infinite number of increments. Just like you’re choosing to read this instead of scrolling past. Don’t scroll your life or it will be gone forever.”
What goes up must come down. I laughed when I thought of that. Because the way down lacked any attractiveness compared to the sense of adventure when I started up the tree and pile of brush. I dare not say how high I went. My age allegedly begs for restraint. There is a shimmering word in our language that attempts to describe the realization that you might not know it could be your last time. I reached the pile of brush and the trees jamming up from it because I had seen a hawk flying low upon the creek bed. At the end of its run, it elegantly rose up through the canopy and disappeared. It was my guess that it had a perch somewhere nearby and above. I followed the narrowing and disappearing dirt path until it was no longer. I pushed through the brambles and vines to reach the most likely tree that would serve as a candidate for ascension. Though I sometimes regret being barefoot, I also miss the connection with the dirt, rocks and water when I choose to protect my faith. I was barefoot today. I leaned against the tree trunk and waited. Watching the birds and squirrels. A shadow went above me and I could hear the woosh of wings. And the bird of prey sat across from me, adjusting its wings and feathers while keeping an eye on me. I slowly reached for my phone in my front left pocket. Just as much to avoid dropping my phone or hurling myself from the exposed safety of the tree trunk. The moment was enough but I felt compelled to take a picture. For just a moment, the bird and I were at the same level. I was a little bit jealous that it would be able to jump, spread his wings, and skim along the cold water of the creek below. It would be two seconds of glorious freefall. As we all know, it’s not the fall that hurts. It’s the ending. Some people question others for their elaborate planning and effort for short bursts of pleasure. To that I would say, the best one-off moment so far this week was making an effort to see SpaceX blaze across the sky above me early one morning. Or to point out that you spend hours to shop and cook for the tastes sensation of eating that sometimes only lasts a few minutes. Or you rush for the singular goal of pleasure, when it is the journey and process that makes the sensation what it is. I managed to get out of the tree and brush. The hawk probably laughed at me, wondering why I took the long way to get out of the tree. I left him there, scanning the creek. When I looked back along the creek and realized how far I had climbed, I reminded myself that I have a picture. And that one day the digital picture would still be here, long after the memory attached to me would be gone.
I was so thankful I was outside when the SpaceX Dragon streaked across several states a little before 4:40 a.m. I’m glad I didn’t head to the top of the parking deck here. It takes a lot to surprise me. The speed of the spacecraft as it streaked across the United States caught me completely off guard. Though my picture does not capture how beautiful it was, the spacecraft fluctuated with a huge variety of colors and left a surprisingly wide trail behind it as it blazed across above me. When it first became visible to me near the Northwest horizon, I simply could not believe the speed in which it approached. It was like a fiery prism running across the sky. X .
I have an addiction to leaving fun signs at retail registers. I did more than one today. But in this case, before I even got away, I overheard one person ask the other, “Ooh! For some reason, I think a free pickle with coffee sounds really good! Don’t you?” I walked away quickly. There are a lot of times when it’s way more fun to use my imagination to develop the possible scenarios that resulted from my shenanigans. .
After doing what I had to do in order to do what I want to do, aka work, and doing a blizzard of chores… I could not resist the call of the creek. I followed one of the little tributaries until I was certain I would break my neck doing so. Even though it’s 80 plus, the water is a bit chilly and my feet started feeling as cold as a senator’s heart. I could not quite make it to a tree with at least two dozen huge crows in it. It sounded like a management meeting wherein everyone was arguing about what color the cover sheet should be for the new TPS reports. Light breeze, the sound of the water cascading, and would-be managers cawing crazily in the overhead canopies of the trees. Maybe because it’s been a while since I’ve walked down the middle of the stream beds… It’s hard to simultaneously bear a grudge against the workday while experiencing such a familiar feeling. I tried hard to find something to gripe about. But the water cascading kept telling me to be quiet and be still. If you’re not prone to overthinking, you might not understand the imposed stillness. X .
Yesterday morning, I watched an older lady painfully collect her bags from the EZ Mart counter. When I left, I rolled down my window and offered her a ride. I could see the look of distrust in her eyes. She said thank you and immediately turned away. She struggled with the bags as she walked.
Today as I left the worst convenience store in the history of mankind, another older lady seemed to be talking to me from a distance as I drove away. Because my car has ancient roller windows (even though it’s a 21 model), I leaned toward the passenger side and rolled down my window. She asked me if I could give her a ride. Honestly, assuming she wanted a ride to a nearby location, I had time. It’s rare for me to hesitate. But something about her seemed off. I told her I could not. She smiled and said thank you. And then she added that she loved my purple glasses. Something about her saying something nice and adding a smile after she realized I wasn’t going to give her a ride banged a gong in my head. I’ve given plenty of rides to questionable people if I’m alone because the risk is only to me. Or them, if you know me well enough.
Love, X
PS The picture is unrelated to my story. I took it Saturday. My cat was rolling around under the tree debris as if it were catnip. He’s on lockdown again after yesterday’s shenanigans. .
I drove the roads at 2:00 a.m. . I didn’t have to worry about lanes because there was no other traffic to impede me. I swept my stairs again and salted them because, well, no one else was going to do it. Wearing knee-high boot covers, I didn’t have to worry about wet or cold feet. It was a balmy negative two so I didn’t have to worry about overheating as I swept some of the areas around work. I love the abandoned world that snow brings. But I did take time to stamp ribald messages in a few places with undisturbed snow. To imagine the consternation of anyone who reads them this morning. At one point, my laughter was uncontainable. My voice carried and echoed strangely across the snow and in the undisturbed world. It was beautiful, but also a bit lonely.
In the earlier hours this morning, it was one degree. With winds of about ten mph, it was breathtaking. I once worked in a -40 work environment. If you’re lucky enough to have trees with leaves still on them, you know that the melody the wind creates sounds like falling rain or heavy snow when it’s this cold. Unlike most post-midnight Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, traffic was non-existent. Everyone was huddled inside somewhere, undoubtedly with blankets piled and tucked. I walked to the road and watched and listened as the dead leaves above me rustled. It was a beautiful, abandoned world with just me in it to observe it. The crosswalk and street lights shone vividly in the air. Color in this cold takes on a new life. I stood there until the bottom of my legs began to ache from the cold. A cup of bitter coffee and another cup of hot cider waited for me back at the apartment. But still, I stood there, waiting for some unidentified moment to propel me back inside. Nothing happened. Sometimes that’s the most beautiful thing.
Someone asked me, “X, why haven’t you been making solar bottle lights lately?”
I was certain that the grin I gave shouted the obvious answer: “I haven’t stopped.”
In the last few months, I’ve left several in front of people’s houses with a note attached. The Johnny Appleseed of decorative solar light bottles. A few more, I’ve left in odd places where I knew they would be discovered and taken by someone interested.
I didn’t want all the bottles that had been saved and given to me to be wasted. So for anybody like Jay or Burke or others who shared their bottles, just because I haven’t mentioned it doesn’t mean I haven’t given new life to the bottles given to me. To strangers. It’s a pleasure to give one to someone personally, something I’ve made. But it turns out that it is equally fascinating to put them out in the world without having any idea about the lives of those who receive them.
This afternoon, I walked behind a building and looked over the fence. The bottle I had left on their front porch weeks ago sat facing the sun, charging as much as possible in the low winter light so that it can later add color however the new owner sees fit.
What makes going to the movie so special? It could be the excessive butter that leads to gas-propelled walking and making you regret every decision you’ve made in your adult life by eating too much of it. The kernels that plague your teeth and make you reaffirm the decision that, yes this year, you need to go to the dentist. It could be the occasional narcissist who thinks that we need their phone lit up in order to see that they are checking their Tinder for people who are really into selfishness. Rarely do you see a brain surgeon at the theater. I really doubt that Chad or Karen needs to check their phone every 16 seconds.
And that leads me to one of the most joyous things about theaters. It is one of the last remaining places that we are supposed to pretend that our life doesn’t require our personal and immediate attention. We get to focus on a fantasy world, feel our heart race, and even feel a tear sometimes form in the corner of our eyes. Without the distraction of devices. We’re just sitting and absorbing a collective story that brings us happiness.
I’m old school. I want to see and hear the nuance on the screen and to dive in to an alternate reality for a couple of hours. To feel the spark of creativity and originality fire in my brain as I watch and listen. And that requires focus. No matter how people defend their restlessness, entertainment without focus is a diluted shadow of the experience when you aren’t aying attention.
I know people roll their eyes at me when I tell them I don’t get bored. There’s no secret to it. Even if you’re sitting alone on a quiet porch, there’s an entire world within your view. And another one inside of your head to match it.
It’s being in the moment and giving each moment your attention. I can’t help but think that so many people are sitting in the passenger seat of their car ignoring the world as it passes by. At the fulcrum of most people’s lives are their phones. They are the best communication and entertainment devices ever invented. But you have to remind yourself that for every second you are distracted by your phone, you are missing the world and the people standing right next to you. If if first come first serve is truly important to us, then surely it follows that the people already with us deserve our undivided attention.
And that’s one of the reasons I love movie theaters. We haven’t quite lost the expectation of being in the moment and focused.
Like all experiences, a great movie that is shared takes on new life. Much in the same way that doing something together has the same result. All of us can list seminal movies that changed us in small ways. None of it could happen without allowing the magic of imagination and focus to envelope us.
Yes, we also get to eat a bushel of popcorn and drink so much soda that we are afraid we might not make it to the bathroom before the movie is over.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 