Tuesday, September 06, 2005
In the Kitchen, Boiling Society
One foot in front of the other, my pant pant leg graces the shifting pieces of debre. They lay lifeless on the side of the road, cast aside by the ignorant, untouched by the rest. And just a few feet down rests the treasured sands of the shore, where millions drift each day to appreciate the beauty of nature. Does it not seem ironic that just a glance away from the very place humans treasure and glorify for its natural spectacularness and pure exquisiteness we throw the scum of our existence? Perhaps I shouldn't be too harsh. Afterall, it is pretty complex to understand that to disgaurd trash on public, if not naturally holy, ground is in fact something to be reconsidered before acted upon. Has our laziness now overruled our ability to understand our very appreciation for creation, beauty, and scenery? I guess so...
I continue my passage down onto the hot sands of Venice, where the oceans is pugnant with pollution and the air thick with salt. The melodies of Dispatch play loud in my head while I look straight ahead, maybe even slightly up. I love to walk just feeling my feet and seeing the sky. I suppose it makes me feel etherial in a way, like the world moves while I sit still in the heavens. Over the rocks I hop onto the pier that is nearly disinigrated and rotted to nothingness. The board is thin and the dropto the water is a long way down. I step with confidence in a striaght line, arms out, chest up, mouth open. I literally try to taste the air and grab the space in hopes of taking away some of the weight of life. The waves crash inland as I travel out to sea, causing me to feel as though i am moving rapidly, high above the world. My balance feels steady but the world rocks back and forth. The wind presses me gently but I smile in reply.
It felt so, good.
I think that is life in a nutshell. The world, polluted, dirtied, noisy and rough. Beneath it though, still natural enough and in its form that those who are willing may experience it. The beams on which we build our beliefs have taken a beating. They are thin and worn, but still standing and waiting for reinforcement. And so we test them, constantly, seeing how well they can take us out to sea. We stand atop them, arms spread, mouth open, waiting to feel something that will bring us up to the sky we see above and to a level that we know we deserve. Days move rapidly although we may stand still, because the tide doesn't wait and neither does time. And so challenges come, strong like the wind or soft and breezy, and instead of crouching low to cling to the disinigrating boards of belief, we must lean into them and smile because we are being challenged.
The bus ride home, into the inner city and out of the marina, brings back solidity and reality and I come down off my high to recieve another day in living. Hopefully I have learned something other than my affirmed belief on how horrible litering is. ¶ 10:37 PM
I continue my passage down onto the hot sands of Venice, where the oceans is pugnant with pollution and the air thick with salt. The melodies of Dispatch play loud in my head while I look straight ahead, maybe even slightly up. I love to walk just feeling my feet and seeing the sky. I suppose it makes me feel etherial in a way, like the world moves while I sit still in the heavens. Over the rocks I hop onto the pier that is nearly disinigrated and rotted to nothingness. The board is thin and the dropto the water is a long way down. I step with confidence in a striaght line, arms out, chest up, mouth open. I literally try to taste the air and grab the space in hopes of taking away some of the weight of life. The waves crash inland as I travel out to sea, causing me to feel as though i am moving rapidly, high above the world. My balance feels steady but the world rocks back and forth. The wind presses me gently but I smile in reply.
It felt so, good.
I think that is life in a nutshell. The world, polluted, dirtied, noisy and rough. Beneath it though, still natural enough and in its form that those who are willing may experience it. The beams on which we build our beliefs have taken a beating. They are thin and worn, but still standing and waiting for reinforcement. And so we test them, constantly, seeing how well they can take us out to sea. We stand atop them, arms spread, mouth open, waiting to feel something that will bring us up to the sky we see above and to a level that we know we deserve. Days move rapidly although we may stand still, because the tide doesn't wait and neither does time. And so challenges come, strong like the wind or soft and breezy, and instead of crouching low to cling to the disinigrating boards of belief, we must lean into them and smile because we are being challenged.
The bus ride home, into the inner city and out of the marina, brings back solidity and reality and I come down off my high to recieve another day in living. Hopefully I have learned something other than my affirmed belief on how horrible litering is. ¶ 10:37 PM
