An excerpt from Scotland…

In Essays, Photography on January 2, 2009 at 8:29 am



Drip Drop Thoughts

Drip Drop Thoughts

It rained today.  I took that as a marvelous sign to head into the city.  The bus driver smiled at me as I hopped on, and it struck me that I might lose myself to reverie on this very wet day.  

 I was right.

 It’s unmistakable, that first inkling of curiosity- striking you as you make eye contact, an immoveable, primal… something.   Your body registering some sort of procreational possibility at the most microcosmic of levels.  Endorphins at the ready, you are warm before you even make eye contact…

Or maybe he just looks good in those jeans.

Whatever the inspiration, it comes over you without much consideration to whatever it is your’e doing, and thus you stumble, smile awkwardly as you tidy up your cappuccino, and spin to get the hell out of there.  Still, you’re left wondering about them, this person that made you blush, and so you peek back over your caffeinated cup in the hopes of catching another glimpse.

And what happens then?  The primordial ooze that runs your animal brain has done its part, drawn attention, and now gets back to its radar.  Your second glance does nothing to sway its attention, but still it’s there, flooding your senses, and so it gets run by the brain instead.  Taking a closer look at the person before your eyes, you find yourself remembering that you  already have a significant other and resign yourself to look no more, or perhaps you remember that your ex-girlfriend wore a similar colored sweater and it always gave you headaches, or maybe you note, with glinting eye, that he is reading the very same novel you just picked up at Barnes and Noble.  The brain encourages you to approach.  But you’re nervous, so it seeks a second opinion from it’s desirous neighbor and asks the loins to take a look at this blip, this beacon, this fantastic possibility… 

And is there much resistance when motivated by lust?  Can we truly fight it off, that little flare of attraction and… desire… when not once, but possibly twice we are moved to flush cheeks?  Even if the mind has taken a “Pass”, sometimes this less-discriminating nymph urges us on; “Go ahead, use that funny joke about your aunt pissing herself last Christmas.  That always breaks the ice!”  And so you do, to mixed results.

Or possibly the mind reminds us (before we can charm them with our clever wit) that our jokes are always poorly received, lead to humiliation even, and the lust, shamed, quiets down and resigns itself to be satisfied with hot drinks in warm mugs.

 But the soul, ahhh, once the soul picks up this thread, this tingle of curiosity, and determines it worth investigating, well…

More often than not this entity of higher being floats on its merry cloud, knowing all and answering in riddles, and generally throwing its hands up at our human whims.  It watches us with measured interest, but oh, what hope have against that moment of kindred sparking, pulling us inevitably toward some karmic reunion?  What possible hope do we have of resisting a soul awakened?

There it is, suddenly pulling you towards your (dare you think it) beloved, moved beyond all rational thought (but the jokes, you’re not funny!  She’ll throw her café latte in your face! What if he’s gay?) and you’re standing before them,  complimenting the weather or asking them to pass the sugar, and they smile at you.  They smile at you with eyes that have more depth than your laundry bin, they have hollows that you’ve only dreamed of, parameters that mesmerize, those eyes practically sing at you with a voltage so monumental that you mistakenly credit your momentary high to that second shot of espresso.  And you don’t think about the time, or the to-do list in your pocket, you think only about the warm feeling spreading across your middle and up into your spine.  

And you notice their sweater is the same color as your ex-lover’s, but you don’t care, because your soul has already decided for you:  “I want this.“

And whether it will be Love or Loss is no matter.  Your soul isn’t a fortuneteller after all!  So it settles into a blurry haze of contentment, the mind and lust at ease to let it have its moment in the sunshine.  For they all know, better than you, that these things are beyond explanation.  They know that it doesn’t make sense.  They know that without them, in this world of desolate being, we’d be nowhere near as cozy as we are right now, snug in the land of possibility.  And so they sit back, and enjoy the moment.

And really, in a world as indifferent as ours, in a world as unconnected, should we really hide from these carefully crafted collisions?  Or should we enjoy them for what they are; a jolting affirmation of connectedness? 

 Oh, here’s my stop.  

 Welcome to Edinburgh.

  1. I could get lost in your imagination for hours! But alas, it is time for sleep. Love ya lady!

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