Thursday, August 23, 2012
That’s passion bluntly and obtrusively
I have to tell you something. Remember that day when I got home and you were lying on the couch, and I stood there looking at you until finally you asked me: is everything ok? Of course I said, yeah, all’s fine. You gave me the simplest smile and gaze back at the television. I had to pretend I was watching it too, but it hurt.
Do you know I love to laugh and sing, hidden inside by the motorcycle’s helmet? Yes, sometimes I just feel like the whole world is funny. But sometimes I feel the exact opposite. I feel that I live in the saddest place a soul can live. In those moments I want to drive faster, and I feel that nothing really matters enough to actually be careful with the speed.
What happens with the things I share with you? What do you do with them? Do you recall them after, do you see them in me, later? Do you tell anyone else? I tell a lot about you. So many of my conversations end up with me telling things I heard from you, thinking to myself, how smart I must sound.
I know you pay attention, I know you hear me, but I guess I’m too out of the ordinary to be part of your daily life. Even though I try so much to be ordinary.
I feel old, have you ever thought I felt that way? I do.
I feel that I’ve seen too much sadness, too much excitement, too much doubt and certainties. I’m many times amazed with scientific findings, and philosophical dissertations, and that definitely proves me how little do I know, how little my life is, but on the other hand, none of that surprises me anymore. It’s obvious that something incredible is sure to exist. Of course there are absurdities, of course there is beauty.
I’m fading, that’s my plausible explanation for feeling this way. I don’t know when did it really start. I sometimes think it was immediately after I was born. Not later than that was I disappointed with the fakeness of joy. Ah, silly me, being sarcastic right now when my own thoughts are as fragile as a dry leaf on the ground.
Today I’m by myself, so I’m not censoring any word, every word is coming out as it should most of the time. I say most of the time because not every moment deserves the truth. Some moments, or people deserve a sweet lie. Lies can be good. Lies can be colorful, they can be dreams becoming liberated by our imagination and power to change reality. I dislike them, a lot, for they hide real purposes, but I can’t disagree that some lies make you a lot happier. Why not lie and tell someone whose failure is about to surge on the horizon, that they did great, and whatever the end result for their actions is, tell them that what really matters is their effort. But is it really? What really matters is the end result, that’s why we will give it a another try, one, two, three times or we’ll quit and put an end to it. Our effort makes us grow, and learn, especially with our most stupid mistakes, but what we long for, is the tangibility of our goal. That’s what really matters...
So when you look at me, do you see what really matters?
I don’t see it anymore. I feel that is not in me, that is not outside, I feel that I’ve lost the capacity to sense it. I feel that what really matters got lost beneath the job, the hobbies; the goals; the books; the conversations; the adventures, the checklists.
But then someone shows up, and tells you how curious they are about you, curious about them by your side. Someone looks in your eyes and see themselves in you. And the possibility of exiting yourself feels good. Feels good to feel differently, feels good the possibility of change, the whole renovation of your cellular tissue. You feel you can actually be seducing another person just like you. You feel you can seduce yourself back. That mirror image of your eyes feeling excited, of your lips smiling in that playful and assertive way, of your whole body generating fast consuming energy. You loose control, and everything is amplified. The vibration of music, the intensity of the sun on your skin, you feel defiant, as if nothing was impossible for you to do or say, as if pain could not hurt you, but instead made you feel even more alive! Someone shows up and you feel more alive.
That’s passion bluntly and obtrusively.
ANOTHER SONG STARTS PLAYING...