[Dates in the sun in Amman, Jordan. Photo taken earlier this year.]
The cursor is blinking at me like a hungry cat ~ eager for me to keep my fingers moving all over the keyboard, typing words that, when strung together, will create something magical, something inspiring, something that makes it worth the time of anyone who happens to stumble upon this blog.
What is it that pulls us towards one another across the invisible threads of the internet? Why do we take the time to check in with one another, read about each others' days, travels, thoughts, struggles, simple pleasures and most profound questions? Is it so we feel less alone? Is it to save time (why check in with just one person on the phone when we can check in with twenty on Facebook!) Is it because we see ourselves in the images, words and creations of like-minded souls, and this validates who we are, what we feel, what we long to do?
I'm just asking silly questions while I wait for my laundry to dry. I'm letting the thoughts and questions flow, trying to feed the cursor that starts blinking the instant I stop typing. I'm thinking about how magnificently difficult it is sometimes for us to get out of our own way ~ to see that the solutions to our problems can always be found in the same exact place ~ within ourselves. I'm thinking about the fact that I am having more frequent experiences of discovering wildly unexpected connections between people I know, and that all of these crazy "coincidences" are signs that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
I am thinking about how the other night, on the way to dinner, I noticed the sway of the palm trees and suddenly understood how brief our time in this world really is. For a moment, I saw every human being in the crowd strolling around the Santa Monica Pier as a bright burst of light ~ here one moment, gone the next ~ and it was all I could do not to weep at the recognition that all of us have a finite amount of time to watch the sway of the palm trees, to smell the salt of the ocean, to hear our lovers' laugh.
Why did I have this sudden burst of insight when I looked at the palm trees that evening, when I see those palm trees every day? I have no idea. But during that tiniest speck of time, I understood everything, even that this awakening was slipping through my fingers as quickly as it came to me. It is as if I passed by an open window, and as I walked by I got a glimpse ~ of the truth, of life, of death, and the impermanence of it all ~ of me, of you, of those palm trees and the wind that moved them.
But now I'm here, and I have this moment, and as I sit here listening to my clothes spin around in the dryer on a quiet Tuesday night, I have to tell you ~ I'll take every bit of this crazy world that I can get, even the parts that hurt.