simultaneous mass existence
I start up the car, only to hear a report about the Large Hadron Collider—its delays, problems, and potential for discovering other dimensions. It seems an appropriate way to open this hour of existence. The weather is absolutely wonderful, at the moment—that perfect balancing point where warm and cool kiss. There is a slight breeze, and the sun enlivens everything in sight.
I realize that I have an irrational annoyance that borders on hatred when it comes to the use of the word ‘tweet’ in regard to anything other than birds or whistles. It sounds too much like some sort of bodily function euphemism.
How odd, to suddenly pay attention to the smallest of details. This short drive has become so habitual that my mind is often somewhere else. I drive past a small, local theatre, and the marquee advertises a play entitled “Truth! Reconciliation?” A truck passes, its side boldly proclaiming “There’s nothing as cool as a pool”. My mind responds with a rather sarcastic, ‘Actually, I can think of quite a few things that are at least as cool as a pool, if not cooler.’
As I park, the topic has turned to physics, and the search for a ‘theory of everything’. The moderator remarks, “It seems like you’ve basically found a way for everything to fit, except gravity—it refuses to bend.” To this, the guest replies, “Actually, gravity bends quite a lot of things!” They both laugh.
Walking back to the office, I have absolutely no desire to finish out the rest of the day behind a desk. I glance left, and see some large pipes labeled with something about condensing water—it reminds me of my days working at the nuclear plant. The breeze plays with my hair, and I walk on a path of fallen petals from a nearby Bradford Pear. I realize that at this moment, I am content. I breathe deep, feel the sun on my head, and am at peace.
How much of my life do I spend elsewhere, mentally? I am so infrequently present, anymore. Rehashing this mistake, anticipating what needs to be done in the future…in essence, attempting to exist in a past or future that are illusory. And the reality and beauty of the present moment is lost to me.
Some vibrant yellow flowers catch my eye, provoking a smile. I enjoy yellows and oranges much more than I used to--they are such happy colors.
My desk is a mound of papers and files, scraps and post-its that have a long-overdue date with the garbage can. How easily I become accustomed to and tolerate things that would have previously seemed unsupportable.
Everyone in the office is in a buoyant mood—the effect of a beautiful Friday afternoon and the promise of the weekend. One co-worker decides to decorate an expanding file destined for another department, and starts cutting out little red hearts. “It needs some unicorns,” I say. After printing out some clip-art versions, I paste them on the file. “He’s going to think we’re insane…too bad we don’t have any glitter.”
