Catching up on nano
I'll make it. I'm 10k behind, but i will make it....
I wanted to run away. I felt as though the freedom was mine, the longing to be free and one could be mine. I felt as though it was my duty to run from this bird and it’s stories. But I stayed. I stayed, I waited. I put freedom on hold for a good feeling. I put freedom on hold and opened my ears. Was it freedom to open my ears? Was I free? Was this how I pounded my freedom into my system? I suppose I was bound; this nagging, positive feeling with what surrounded the bird. I suppose I could have, should have, would have left and walked away and lived in fear. That’s it. That was my answer. For as long as I felt fear, I could not be free. And I knew I would feel fear if I left this bird and what it had to say for the perils of this unknown place myself.
Part of me wanted to be a nomadic, exploratory creature, like I was discovering the world, my world, for the first time. In a sense, I was. I was discovering everything here to me for the first time. But you cannot toss aside other peoples research. Take it with a grain, but it still serves a useful purpose. And it isn’t like you are less free. You are not bound to believe all that you hear or are influenced by. You are aware and can disregard or carry on with anything. But when you have fear, then you can never be free. You are always concerned with the other when you are afraid. You can never let go, you can never walk entirely alone. You are never alone when you are afraid because you always have that distant thing that you fear guiding you. It was best to fend this off and listen to the bird. It was. It had to be. I didn’t want to be afraid and if this bird could comfort me, I would let it. If it was wrong, I wouldn’t know that right away, so really, it didn’t matter.
I sat tentatively. Waiting, watching. Anticipating. More than ever before. Anticipation was driving me mad. I let my head hang slightly lower than normal, but it was mostly because my neck was getting sore from holding it up for so long. Ever since I had come out of that trance, my muscles felt all dignified and self righteous. I looked at Jaxin, expectantly.
‘Are you ready?’ I was asked, sincerely. ‘If you are not, we can try and forget this whole ordeal.’
‘No. I. I am ready. I can hear it now. I need to here it now. Please, tell me.’
‘Okay. We can start then. We are ready and prepared to start.’ Jaxin and PB, looking ever so seriously, sat down with me and began to hum. What was this? Some kind of joke? Normally, it would have perturbed me a great deal, but right now it didn’t seem to matter. I didn’t care how long it would take, I had no time limit. I knew it was still Tuesday and they could take as long as they wanted. I was ashamed, mildly, of my immature, impatient attitude. I had to respect them. And I would now, I would respect them.
‘We are going to take you back for a moment, Milo, and make you remember details of your life at home. We are going to help you understand a few things. Close your eyes, first. Close your eyes and think back to when you were at home.’
All I could think about now was Yanny. How I wished our time together had not been so abrupt. I wished we could have blossomed, a little more, laughed, a little more and lived a little longer. We would have had a gargley romance, made up of early mornings and late afternoons. But I don’t think that was Jaxin’s intention. I did not think about Yanny anymore.
I didn’t think back to my childhood like I thought I might. Although, sometimes I wish I had of. If I had of, things may have ended up quite differently. I wish I had let my mind wander a little more, dance a little more, fornicate with my memories a little more. But it was not bound to happen.
It wasn’t that I felt particularly attached to my childhood, or particularly nostalgic at this particular time. But there are certain childhood elements we should let follow us around. I, as I found out later, had let a bit of those elements follow me into the future, but it was not enough. You can never have enough childhood. No, that’s not true. You can, but certain elements of childhood should follow you more closely than others. They should wrap their arms around you, quietly loving the Tuesdays you walk through and helping you to enjoy them more fully. They should not impair your ability to try to understand nor make you be more self concerned than normal. It may sound disempowering to children, but that is solely not my intention. I would like to give extraordinary power to children. But it cannot be denied that all childhood elements are not always good.
I remembered the quiet times of my childhood. The slow, methodic days of summer beneath the trees where much could be heard but much was not there. I remembered waiting in my raincoat in a storm. And hearing the rush of silence when it stopped. But that’s all that I allowed myself to trip over. I snapped back as Jaxin began talking again.
‘Remember, not the details of the faces, not the magical moments of discovery or rain clouds. Remember details we all remember when we think back. Not the days of the week or the common letters. Not the colours commonly addressed. But remember the way it felt to move, any part of your physical self, through space. The way it cuts through air poetically. Remember what it felt like to move. Not to touch textures, but the basic feeling to move part of yourself through the air. Remember it, tenderly, remember it like watching a dream in fast forward motion. Remember it and watch it scuttle through your parts. Remember, it feels similar to here. But here there is much more fluidity, more smooth motion. Less undone. But don’t just remember the way you were aware you moved. Think back to what you heard. Think back to how it felt to hear, certain cues sending chills through your body, certain moments too loud or soft or just. Meaningful, or something similar to that. Remember what it felt like to hear Yanny speak so quietly and enunciate his words. Crete them with the magic wand of his lips. Remember how great it felt to hear his quiet sounds.’
Why was Jaxin talking about Yanny? I didn’t really mind, it was a nice relief. I missed him. Despite how I had felt before, I was not about to let go. I couldn’t. Yanny put me where I was with that bird. If it had not been for Yanny, I would not be sitting in this dwelling, swallowing my nervous, awakened saliva barely alone. I would not be feeling my self come alive here. But I didn’t really want to talk about Yanny. I wanted to get to the bigger picture. What did all of this have to do with that sound?
‘Remember what it was like to sit and listen without Yanny. Remember the sounds that the world made when you hadn’t quite met Yanny yet. Remember how it felt to hear the silence? That fuzzy sound even when there was nothing to listen to. Like static clean far, far away in your ears. Something moving in there to create the sound? Or so it seemed. Something seemed to be filling the space even when there was nothing there to fill it with. Something that seemed to represent a quest that your ears were going on to find something to hear, but not finding much at all. Except that quiet, fuzzy sound. Like I described. That was all that your ears would find sometime. But the sound had to be going somewhere once it left your ears. Your ears were simply a vessel. Your ears were not absorbing it, your ears were making this sound and it had to go somewhere. You weren’t really hearing it; like standing still and wearing corduroy pants. Like what happens when you rub something along the surface of your pants when you are standing absolutely still. You aren’t going anywhere, but you are making sounds as though you are.’
I think I was following this birds train of thoughts. I think I was grasping what it was trying to get at. I knew the sound that it was referring to. I recognized the description. I knew the little feet I heard in my ears when no one was around. But it was as though it didn’t even exist when that huge, annoyingly disastrous sound fell in on this world. I was beginning to understand that the sound I heard here had something to do with the sound I heard at home, though there was a stark contrast between them. And suddenly I understood.