At my ripe old age of unmentionable, I can’t help but feel ancient. Rolling out of bed is an ordeal in the morning all cracks and snaps and heavy eyes, I stumble down the stairs to get a quick breakfast for my son and drag my laptop and a pack of cigarettes outside to reflect on my day which has yet to start. Every morning, this is my routine.
On occasion, this cycle gets broken. It’s been said that what causes artistic and literary ruts is succumbing to the same routines year after painful year, day after day in the doldrums. While I can certainly see the truths that hold this statement together, I do believe there is a line. What happens when you get nothing more than a mere taste of life outside of the prisons we create for ourselves? What happens when you never get to taste at all but simply wish to a painful degree that there were more doors to walk through when the choice has been made to stand up and walk out of confinement?
Samples are heavenly. There is no doubt about that. When the moments have passed and the whirlwind of activity dies down to the breeze of memory, routines change. Not so much in the activities done from day to day under regular circumstances, but more in the fact that the mind is held in a perpetual state of ‘elsewhere’. Whether dreaming of other places or waking in the morning to feel a phantom arm draped across your belly, memory is a very, very powerful thing and while it can often bring the agony of loss, it also carries with it those brief and shining moments of a life that you held (however briefly) in a firm grasp.
What can be said for the daydreamer? The person who breaks their cycles only with fantasy of what coulda, shoulda been? An existence completely forged of imaginary experience and an equivocal state of perpetual wanting is not satisfying. There is something to be said for these people though. There will come a time for them when they will act out the years of careful planning and considerations for what is most important for their happiness. Many of them will not simply live and die in a state of wistful dreaming. It’s the promise of being able to close your eyes when you’ve returned to familiar settings and relive in glory all that you have seen. It’s the hope that one day, time spent pining over one so far from your grasp will reach an abrupt halt as they stand face to face with you and reaching out to them is no longer mere fantasy… as sleep beckons at the end of the chaos, the memory of touch becomes tangible.
This world is full of potential and beauty. Technology offers us the ability to see all of the potential that lies in our own hands. We can see beyond our routines if the cards are played correctly. In these times, there is a great big window allowing us to see the world that we can step out into and the people that exist to share it with. This window, though, well… eventually a time will come where you have to simply open it up, stand on the sill, gather every bit of inertia capable within, and hurtle yourself through. Jump. Jump into oblivion. Pray to the gods that this leap of faith is not a glorified suicide ending in face meeting pavement.
These things I speak of apply to so much within our day to day experience. The big and the small. They could be applied to the activities we attempt to fill the gaping holes in our lives with, or most dramatically, tearing through the barriers of our own sheltered existence and opting to let another person climb through to hold your hand and lead you.
While we let people in through said windows, there is something to be said for using people AS the window. We spend a great portion of our lives forging connections throughout life. The times when we are able to accomplish such a sacred meeting of minds are the experiences that literally fill the chasms in life. Experiences are like water that can be dammed up within the gorge, but people… well, assembling these connections is like sediment building upon itself to strengthen the walls in efforts to counteract the effects of erosion. There are so many people in this world but so few that are not simply placed on the planet to chip away at each other. So few connections we make in the world are deeply effectual of a positive nature and the ones that are, well… it’s easy to shy away from the people that show such potential. Those are the ones we should let IN our window. The lesser meetings and ones of diminished affect, they are the ones you look through. They don’t carry enough potential to guide but they do harbor enough to be able to tolerate as a gateway. We find these people along our course and there are little to no repercussions to using them in the grand scheme but without them, our paths would be greatly hindered. They are our stepping stones. Without them, we cannot get from Point A to Point B.
I find that over these past could of months, this “sampling” of life’s potential is what is creatively stunting me. I spend so much time flashing back through memories once they pass, I can’t find familiar comforts in the routines I’ve always clung so tightly to. I am changing on a large scale as I let new experiences alter my outlook and allow new people shine their potential through doors that I am just beginning to open. I am done with this gradual evolution, thrown the window wide open and have taken the stance on the sill. I am going to launch myself out of this god forsaken hell of a prison and leap to save my life. To hell with the consequences. Consequence breeds excitement. Damn the torpedoes as a good friend once said to me. I am going to jump. Maybe I’ll even quit smoking with the right motivation…