The End of Deadening
February 1, 12:46AM
Earlier, the sun washed away the collective depression that held together an entire city -- our common bond. It splashed though the windows to give the illusion that outside there was hope despite the madness of the previous month. It was dark. We were moving quickly. The passengers were anxious but exhausted. It had been a long day. Some were sleeping in tandem on the way home. Just like a social yawn, behaviors are adopted out of uneasiness, connectedness, or consensus. At times, there's no reason to it at all.
Reminder: There was a pull greater than anything I have felt in my life.
Whatever the case, they were moving together, mirroring each other’s behaviors. It was a true social situation. Although there was no verbal communication, body language said it all. The winter’s chill had worn them... us, out. Between work and the persistent barrage of the city's downdrafts, returning home often seemed to be more of a reprieve than anything -- a temporary escape from the monotonous repetition that tomorrow would bring.
Reminder: I found a way to turn the unimaginable into the ordinary, to stop the impossible from becoming possible.
Their faces slowly sagged before deciding on a resting point, while their eyes repeatedly opened and closed, struggling to stay present. Focus was fleeting, frequently interrupted and hard to maintain. Distant wondering became normal, taking up the space in-between. There was a longing for home and comfort that it would bring. It was beautiful. It was real. I felt uplifted. It seemed as if my own problems could be forgotten.
Reminder: The first time this happened? No, I know the story all too well. It was if love was something that simply was. It didn't matter who love connected, only that it was the right time for love. Love was confused... or I was confused by it.
It was the same feeling that you get when you know you are in the right place at the right time. A feeling that despite our shortcomings, forces exist that can save each of us from ourselves, from self-sabotage. In the moment, a delicate whisper said that whatever controlled the universe was not without heart. Rather, it was willing to give inspiration when it was needed the most. We were not unable to be saved. We were on a journey, passengers coming out of a rough stretch, pushed past our boundaries. It was the end of deadening.
Calling Out:... Those that are afraid of being left alone, always find a way to be left alone. Empty.
Momentarily, the assault on the senses abruptly halted. Revival and rededication interrupted existing patterns, and unexpectedly there was a sudden meaning that had been missing. Forgotten was the utter weakness that could take hold when pushed past our limits, when pushed to madness. Scattered light bounced, crashed and careened moving without direction, but leaving an impression. It was not selective, but for each to embrace.
Truth: I am the type that has to deeply care about another in order to be with them at all.
I saw a quiet smile. If a smile could make a noise this one would sound like the combination of subtle confidence and a sigh of relief. Beneath the layers, another passenger steadied herself in a way that suggested she was strong enough to get through the year. If the season represented growth, she could make it through the uprooting of her foundation, the same uprooting that goes hand-in-hand with each new challenge and change, by reassuring herself that it was going to be alright. She could be rebuilt. She had the best feeling in the world. The feeling of awe when the impossible becomes possible, opening new worlds to visit and new truths uncover.
Moving Forward: If life is about choosing the challenges you want? Well...
The deadening would have to wait for its time had come. It had been made to look like a fool by the shared spirit of a dozen hopeful souls. The energy was transcending, inescapable for those who held it. Tomorrow could be the same, but it wouldn't be a problem because they had clarity -- the possibility of a new tomorrow was enough.
Circling: Time was not linear, always moving forward. It moved back and forth, and rearranged according to experience. It brought me to where I was before. To the exact same place. It moved like a current, connecting those that were on time.
I turned back for one last glance to take a mental picture, and stepped off the train. It was my stop.