- 25 Aug 2019 -
I have just spent the last half hour forcing myself to write a letter to someone important to me.
That feeling is there. The feeling that something has changed, that the world has turned the thermostat up just a few degrees brighter. It is accompanied by a sensation of knowing that comes only when you have been alive long enough to notice something. To notice that the feeling is associated with a day in which everything seems to be going uphill in the lives of the people around you.
I am walking down a pathway in a park in the city. A man sitting on a bench calls out to me,
“Did you just see that change? Just now? Like? The vibrance?”
He gestures with his hands upward to the world around him wildly before dropping them with his shoulders in a defeated fashion, as if he found them useless to convey any understanding.
“Yes, I see it, the positivity. It’s in the air. It all shifted.”
He looks to me and it is in each other’s eyes that we see that shared “knowing”, as though we’re both acknowledging something we hope the other is perceiving too, something that in the moment we find ourselves unable to convey with our bodies or words. In hoping that we share that knowing, his face fills with joy.
Perhaps he’s crazy, perhaps I’m crazy. Perhaps we have two completely unrelated experiences. Perhaps we both are witness to a simple change in weather conditions and humidity. Even if we exchange the same words, we could never really know. A more rational part of my mind is cognizant that my momentary perspective is based on a dopamine high from my recent feeling of accomplishment not ten minutes ago.
As if struck in the head by an invisible force of electricity, he presses his hand to his forehead against what the spiritualists would call the third eye and begins to say,
“It just hit me. Like, stop, hitting me.”
His eyes open wide, his body turning towards me intently. He points his finger towards me intensely with conviction and proclaims,
“I am so proud of you.”
I have to admit that it feels nice to be acknowledged by the world sometimes, even if one has to imagine God is speaking through a man on a park bench.