The Wedding

September 29th, 2015 § 0 comments

Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.” – George Saunders

I’m not sure how other people see their fellow human beings, but I see them in double vision. There is their non-performing self that struggles (or stands, depending on the person) against their performing self. I don’t mean this metaphorically either. I see double, with my eyes out of focus. Sometimes, it’s more of a light thing. Or a colorful thing. Or a flipbook thing. But the non-preforming self always presents itself.

Lofbelli

This might the practice of a grandiose ego. Or a delusional mind. Or an overly romantic sentiment. I could be seeing what I want to see. In a way, I am. People still surprise me. I don’t assume this is supernatural. Or mystical. Or even extra-intuitive.

But I do believe it is what keeps my heart open, so open. It’s hard to not have that door thrown open when you see people’s pain suspended next to them, while they slide across the dance floor to Madonna.

It’s all just a story: The over-performing friend with freckles who just wants happiness. The woman in chevron stripes who is pregnant again, after losing her first child. The quiet prayer-hands guy who feels like he doesn’t belong. It’s a story my eyes and my heart and my imagination conjure up to keep the door propped open.

As a result, I cry a lot. As a result, I walk around smiling. As a result, I bruise easily. As a result, I get the wind knocked out of me.

If I don’t write it, this big mush of love rots away, inside of me. I love you Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouilove. 

There’s something else, too. I’ll never be able to capture it with the language I speak. Ever ever. And I am starting to accept that it might be born and die in my mind only and that is worth settling for. Here’s a rough sketch though: it’s a vision of a heart, but something that defies anatomy, and religious undertones of ‘soul’ and ‘spirit.’ But it’s certainly in that vein. It is imaginary and real and made of endorphins but also something experiential. And it’s so open it hurts.

 

 

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