The cheery face of my companion has changed. His eyes are sad; for me. His gaze pierces into me with such sorrow and sympathy that I resent it. I'll dry my eyes. Won't put my broken heart on display for his pity. I feel a wave of rage rising up in me.
I beat my hands on the metal cage of the elevator, "Can't this damn piece of junk go any faster! I just want out!"
My voice echos up into the darkness we are traveling down through. Even the reverberations are grotesquely loud and out of place. Obscene. I'm not sorry. If I could cut the cable to increase the speed of our descent, I would.
"We are going faster," His voice is so sad, unbearably sad. And it's true. The creaking is more pronounced. There is a gentle sway from side to side that I hadn't noticed till now. The cement lining the shaft is sliding by ever so slightly swifter.
Then with a groan the cage labors to a stop.
"I am obligated to make a stop on every floor, but look. You will recognize these faces just as they will recognize yours," spoke my guide directing me with his eyes through the gate into the room at which we had halted.
I scrutinize the room with an effort to grasp his meaning. It's a plain, unadorned floor, devoid of decoration or furnishings. Darkness lurks in every corner. But in the center, lit by several floor lamps, there is a circle of chairs. This space is full of life and vitality. A guitarist plays expertly while several others sit around his feet singing along. Others laugh and talk with excitement and contentment. Some sit in middle of the circle playing cards with the enthusiasm of children.
The faces, young and old, exude peace and friendship. And they are all so familiar. So very familiar. My father is there! So too my mother, and suddenly every face is one I know. My family and my friends. Those who have loved me despite my indifference and lack of reciprocation. These are the people who have followed me on my muddy path, scorning the filth to bring me a smile and a word of hope.
I freeze. A deer caught in the glare. My heart yearns to join them. My people. My place. My people? Disgrace. My head falls. I may have belonged with them once. They deserve better. I deserve worse. I'd just hold their joy back. Teach them discontent and the finer art of the self-centered life. They are good. I am not. I would repay their words of kindness and hope with anger and despair.
I laugh insipidly at my posturing. This isn't about them. It's about me, always about me. I will choose my own path. I care for them. But not enough to turn back? I hope its not true, but can think of no other explanation for why I'm looking away. Moving on. Moving downward.
As I jerk a dejected shake of my head to the operator, a shrill voice calls my name. I turn to see a young child leaning dangerously off a chair, his face beaming at me, and his hands stretched in welcome. Others notice, and one by one they hear their neighbor's excited comments, and turn to look with faces overflowing with joy and welcome.
"We've been waiting for you!"
"So glad to see you!"
"My Bro, welcome!"
"Yes, come join us."
This is pain. This is excruciating pain. Torn in two. Wanting them. Wanting to run into their waiting open arms. And something crushing me with an iron weight. Squeezing my heart, killing my love, holding me back.
A scream rips out of me, "Let me go!" And an instant later a horrible answer from a voice I hate, "NO. Take me down." I collapse to the floor as the lift shifts downward. Horror. Despair. Hate. Yes, I hate you, I hate you, I hate... me.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Elevator Ride 1.3
The next floor is sliding up toward us. Soft yellow light spills out accompanied by the gentle clink of crystal and silverware. We drop into the opening and I look out on room tastefully decorated in muted reds and lit by candle chandeliers.
The lift operator smiles at my peering face pressed up against the wire gate.
"La Vida de Amor. It's a beautiful restaurant. The food and atmosphere are exquisite. Some people wait their whole life for the chance to dine here. It's your lucky day, though. I'm best friends with the owner. Shall we stop?"
I stand still. I can see a girl. She sits by herself at a table for two. She is wearing a white dress and her face unbearably lovely. She turns and looks at me with calm but expectant eyes. My heart stops beating. I know her. I understand. I do understand.
"No." my voice is so soft and low, more a sigh than a spoken word.
Yet my guide hears. I feel his eyes piercing into me. I can't bear her gaze, and drop my eyes. "Please, lets go..."
I feel the elevator grind to life and we drift downward. I'm weeping.
The lift operator smiles at my peering face pressed up against the wire gate.
"La Vida de Amor. It's a beautiful restaurant. The food and atmosphere are exquisite. Some people wait their whole life for the chance to dine here. It's your lucky day, though. I'm best friends with the owner. Shall we stop?"
I stand still. I can see a girl. She sits by herself at a table for two. She is wearing a white dress and her face unbearably lovely. She turns and looks at me with calm but expectant eyes. My heart stops beating. I know her. I understand. I do understand.
"No." my voice is so soft and low, more a sigh than a spoken word.
Yet my guide hears. I feel his eyes piercing into me. I can't bear her gaze, and drop my eyes. "Please, lets go..."
I feel the elevator grind to life and we drift downward. I'm weeping.
Elevator Ride 1.2
It's dark. The elevator is lit by a single, swinging, bare bulb hanging by its wire from a metal crossbeam. I realize that the noises I am hearing are the squeaks and groans of a tired machine given no rest.
"Didn't like the party?" He asks with a incongruous smile.
"It was alright... No. No, I didn't like it. I hated it." I glared at him, daring him to make a comment. He smiles but stays mercifully silent.
We are approaching another floor. I can hear music. It's jazz.
"Would you like to get off here? Its a great band."
We pull into the opening of the floor and I see the musicians. The saxophonist is lost in his music playing a rift so high and complicated it seems to have transported him to a far better place. The organ and drums are smooth and tasteful. Backing him up in his ecstasy. Cool blue and purple lights paint the walls and ceiling.
"No. Don't stop. Take me down."
"Just as you please."
And then we have passed. The wailing instrument chasing us down into the cool darkness of the shaft.
"Didn't like the party?" He asks with a incongruous smile.
"It was alright... No. No, I didn't like it. I hated it." I glared at him, daring him to make a comment. He smiles but stays mercifully silent.
We are approaching another floor. I can hear music. It's jazz.
"Would you like to get off here? Its a great band."
We pull into the opening of the floor and I see the musicians. The saxophonist is lost in his music playing a rift so high and complicated it seems to have transported him to a far better place. The organ and drums are smooth and tasteful. Backing him up in his ecstasy. Cool blue and purple lights paint the walls and ceiling.
"No. Don't stop. Take me down."
"Just as you please."
And then we have passed. The wailing instrument chasing us down into the cool darkness of the shaft.
Elevator Ride 1.1
Perhaps you are familiar with the situation.
I was at this party. It was a great party. We had the run of a grand old building downtown. It was decorated to the hilt, the beer and wine were flowing, and the food was much better than expected. My friends looked their best. And everyone was smiling.
Everyone is smiling. It's disgusting how they can't stop smiling. Like they can put on their fancy clothes and shed all their anxieties and worries at the same moment. Fakers. So insincere. They smile too much. They talk too loud. Their faces are too bright, and too warm, and too close to mine. The party lights hurt my eyes. Garish. Really, the whole situation. Damn. What's wrong with my beer? Someone must be siphoning all the happiness out before they refill my glass. Can't stand the music. So loud and inappropriately upbeat. I'm burning up.
Won't stay a moment longer. Just know I will brutally strike the next grinning face that invades my thoughts with its superficial chatter.
I stumble through the haze of light and laughter searching for a way down. Curse the idiot who put the beer on the top floor. There. The elevator. Don't remember seeing it here before, but who cares?
Caution. Watch your step.
The sign is unnervingly prominent on the wall next to the lift. I pause on the open threshold, suddenly aware that the elevator seems several decades outdated. Slatted gates that open and close vertically. The inside is dark and unfinished with metal screening which allows one to examine the dark dirty shaft where the cage hangs. I'm stuck. One foot on, unsure whether I contain the courage to move forward.
"It's perfectly safe. Step aboard."
He's perched on a stool by off to the side of the gate. He's smiling. And holding a beer casually in his left hand.
"Just examining the... mechanics," I mutter hurriedly stepping aboard. I hate myself for being embarrassed. And I am very. And what a stupid thing to say. Mechanics. Brilliant.
"Not to worry, friend. This lift has been in operation for sixty years."
That's supposed to be reassuring? "Ah," I murmur with the most neutral tone I can manage. I have a very bad feeling. But the cheerful fellow has already shut the wooden gates with a bang. And an instant later I feel the the ground beneath my feet drop with a sickening lurch.
The agonizingly slow rate of our descent is some relief. I look up through open metal of the cage and see the lights dancing out onto the cement walls of the shaft from the receding party. The ecstatic voices of my tormentors echo down, gradually receding with the lights.
I was at this party. It was a great party. We had the run of a grand old building downtown. It was decorated to the hilt, the beer and wine were flowing, and the food was much better than expected. My friends looked their best. And everyone was smiling.
Everyone is smiling. It's disgusting how they can't stop smiling. Like they can put on their fancy clothes and shed all their anxieties and worries at the same moment. Fakers. So insincere. They smile too much. They talk too loud. Their faces are too bright, and too warm, and too close to mine. The party lights hurt my eyes. Garish. Really, the whole situation. Damn. What's wrong with my beer? Someone must be siphoning all the happiness out before they refill my glass. Can't stand the music. So loud and inappropriately upbeat. I'm burning up.
Won't stay a moment longer. Just know I will brutally strike the next grinning face that invades my thoughts with its superficial chatter.
I stumble through the haze of light and laughter searching for a way down. Curse the idiot who put the beer on the top floor. There. The elevator. Don't remember seeing it here before, but who cares?
Caution. Watch your step.
The sign is unnervingly prominent on the wall next to the lift. I pause on the open threshold, suddenly aware that the elevator seems several decades outdated. Slatted gates that open and close vertically. The inside is dark and unfinished with metal screening which allows one to examine the dark dirty shaft where the cage hangs. I'm stuck. One foot on, unsure whether I contain the courage to move forward.
"It's perfectly safe. Step aboard."
He's perched on a stool by off to the side of the gate. He's smiling. And holding a beer casually in his left hand.
"Just examining the... mechanics," I mutter hurriedly stepping aboard. I hate myself for being embarrassed. And I am very. And what a stupid thing to say. Mechanics. Brilliant.
"Not to worry, friend. This lift has been in operation for sixty years."
That's supposed to be reassuring? "Ah," I murmur with the most neutral tone I can manage. I have a very bad feeling. But the cheerful fellow has already shut the wooden gates with a bang. And an instant later I feel the the ground beneath my feet drop with a sickening lurch.
The agonizingly slow rate of our descent is some relief. I look up through open metal of the cage and see the lights dancing out onto the cement walls of the shaft from the receding party. The ecstatic voices of my tormentors echo down, gradually receding with the lights.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Parells in Meditation
The trees are nervous.
Storms. Elemental child.
"If you don't fear fire, hold me tight. You'll be burned and extinguish my light."
Lightning. Find me on the mountain's peak. Find me tumbling in the crash of the surf.
"Pain mingled pleasure and a darker night."
High wind. I'll climb the tallest tree. Hang on tight, but keep one hand free. Try to fling me out, buck and swing, I'll laugh and scream, the joy is in the terror. A wild ride with ninety feet to reconsider and regret.
"A fox that runs wild, snaps at your touch. Dreams, hopes, ambitions, delusions."
"Most of all wanting to be loved, wanting to be tamed."
They whisper woven worries,
Wild wind, pass us by...
"I'm a sputtering flame hissing in the rain. I'll disappear any moment. That's why I'm here."
Wild wind, pass us by...
"I'm a sputtering flame hissing in the rain. I'll disappear any moment. That's why I'm here."
Storms. Elemental child.
"If you don't fear fire, hold me tight. You'll be burned and extinguish my light."
Lightning. Find me on the mountain's peak. Find me tumbling in the crash of the surf.
"Pain mingled pleasure and a darker night."
High wind. I'll climb the tallest tree. Hang on tight, but keep one hand free. Try to fling me out, buck and swing, I'll laugh and scream, the joy is in the terror. A wild ride with ninety feet to reconsider and regret.
"A fox that runs wild, snaps at your touch. Dreams, hopes, ambitions, delusions."
Deluge. Chase me in the tall grass. Barefoot at breakneck speed, rain streaming down my face and chest.
"Most of all wanting to be loved, wanting to be tamed."
Flash flood. Find me in the angry furry. I dive in. Pulled under, tossed like a leaf, smiling as I choke for air.
"To know the collar of ownership and dependence. Desperate to feel it circle my neck."
Life as a cigarette: Rip off the filter and smoke it fast.
The rules of the road: Drive faster, turn harder, no seat belts permitted.
Pavement surfing: somersault and slide. Rush back in line for another ride.
"Yet the terrible transformation. Another docile dog?"
I see you watching,
You think my words are for you?
Perhaps, in a way...
"To know the collar of ownership and dependence. Desperate to feel it circle my neck."
Life as a cigarette: Rip off the filter and smoke it fast.
The rules of the road: Drive faster, turn harder, no seat belts permitted.
Pavement surfing: somersault and slide. Rush back in line for another ride.
"Yet the terrible transformation. Another docile dog?"
I see you watching,
You think my words are for you?
Perhaps, in a way...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Running in Place
Kansas, Summer '06, Afternoon
Some days are for rambling.
My feet lead me out into the fields away from anything that wreaks of human touch. Past the roads and houses, over fences and walking trails, I tread. Carefully I pick my steps. I refuse to settle for the man-made peace of parks.
I pick my steps carefully, no wild flowers will bend under my weight.
In my mind I'm running desperately. Looking for a place to call my own, somewhere I can silence the accusers which have taken up residence like malicious hitchhikers in my head with the more potent silence of quiet and unaffected life; that is, life devoid of the thoughts and whispers which occupy the human existence.
Stopping now. The sleeping brook speaks, but its unconscious words are peacefully happy. Content. What a concept.
A nervous frog eyes me suspiciously. I smile disarmingly, "Don't worry, I have no desire to disturb," despite my effort at reassurance, the frog dives for the cool safety of the dark waters.
There's a flash of lethal power in the depths of the pool. Some terrible struggle beneath the water's roiling surface. A long, black whip slices out of the water with horrible strength and speed and disappears again.
Then the combatants rise. The snake has its jaws locked on the struggling creature. They thrash and roll, splashing angry water. I'm mesmerized with horror. And then the violence is diminishing. The snake's grip on the frog's head is a death trap. His fight for life grows weaker; his flailing kicks coming with less and less frequency. Hope and strength are fading fast. My lungs are burning. I try to scream my despair. Can't. Realize I've been holding my breath. I gasp and choke, breaking the iron grip on my throat. I want to throw up.
The frog is finally still. Hopeless or dead. It's the same thing.
The snake sinks down with its prey.
I sit absolutely still. And what was I thinking? That I could somehow run faster than the curse that rides me? Thought I could leave my Midas touch behind me? That life's insanity resided somewhere outside of me?
I can't escape humanity because I am human. I will carry the toxin of my existence where ever I roam. And it will drift and snake across the ground to poison anything within my reach.
A nervous frog eyes me suspiciously. I smile disarmingly, "Don't worry, I have no desire to disturb," despite my effort at reassurance, the frog dives for the cool safety of the dark waters.
There's a flash of lethal power in the depths of the pool. Some terrible struggle beneath the water's roiling surface. A long, black whip slices out of the water with horrible strength and speed and disappears again.
Then the combatants rise. The snake has its jaws locked on the struggling creature. They thrash and roll, splashing angry water. I'm mesmerized with horror. And then the violence is diminishing. The snake's grip on the frog's head is a death trap. His fight for life grows weaker; his flailing kicks coming with less and less frequency. Hope and strength are fading fast. My lungs are burning. I try to scream my despair. Can't. Realize I've been holding my breath. I gasp and choke, breaking the iron grip on my throat. I want to throw up.
The frog is finally still. Hopeless or dead. It's the same thing.
The snake sinks down with its prey.
I sit absolutely still. And what was I thinking? That I could somehow run faster than the curse that rides me? Thought I could leave my Midas touch behind me? That life's insanity resided somewhere outside of me?
I can't escape humanity because I am human. I will carry the toxin of my existence where ever I roam. And it will drift and snake across the ground to poison anything within my reach.
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