Empathy and Eyes and Hollows and Skies
When I was a kid, I used to wonder what it would be like to live in the hollow of a very large tree. I'd read a story about it, and couldn't get the thought out of my head. I also wanted to read the whole King James Bible cover to cover. I think I got as far as Leviticus when I was 9 before giving up the ghost on the whole idea. It was just too much. Too many sons being begotten. Too much smiting. Too much wrath for my curious but compassionate mind. Where were the women in this book? And why was it so full of scary stuff and hate? I remember thinking these were really terrifying people, and God being the ring leader, was the scariest of all. I shut the book and revered it kind of like a kid reveres urban legends. But, I didn't forget about it. And, I didn't forget about the lady who lived in the tree hollow.
In the midst of the misery that accompanies financial struggles, it's really easy to get caught up in the chaos and feel absolutely certain that despite knowing better, or believing we know better, that money actually can buy happiness. After all, if the source of the anxiety and struggle is a lack of money, clearly it would just take money to wipe away the bad feelings, right? But, somehow, it just doesn't really work that way. Granted, it strips a layer of anxiety. It pays the bills needing paid. But, there's a certain numbness that remains. It's like a dull ache, or a hum. A hollow.
The things that fill the soul are experiences. Sure, sometimes the most financially stable individuals are also incredibly happy. Sometimes they're assholes. Sometimes they're genuinely kind souls. Doesn't it rain on the wicked as well as the righteous? But, sometimes the happiest souls are also the poorest.
My favorite memories are all outdoors. And, my favorite experiences involve companionship: getting high in the grass on the hill behind the baseball dugouts at Hiram with Jeremy and Eddie. Being in love, walking in the woods. Laying outside, staring at the stars under a tree. Finding in myself that everything I want is all around me. Warmth. Eyes. Stars. Shadows. Lips and hands. Sunsets. Sunrises. Heaven and hell, all wound into a beautiful world that doesn't need a book or a dollar sign. We fill those hollow places with love.
Maybe I'll never know what it's like to live in a tree.
And, I've read the King James Bible, of course.
In the dark, we find so many things, and hide from so many more.
In daylight, we often forget what they are.
Who can blame us? There's nothing to fear when we're exposed. And, there's no place to hide anyway.
In the midst of the misery that accompanies financial struggles, it's really easy to get caught up in the chaos and feel absolutely certain that despite knowing better, or believing we know better, that money actually can buy happiness. After all, if the source of the anxiety and struggle is a lack of money, clearly it would just take money to wipe away the bad feelings, right? But, somehow, it just doesn't really work that way. Granted, it strips a layer of anxiety. It pays the bills needing paid. But, there's a certain numbness that remains. It's like a dull ache, or a hum. A hollow.
The things that fill the soul are experiences. Sure, sometimes the most financially stable individuals are also incredibly happy. Sometimes they're assholes. Sometimes they're genuinely kind souls. Doesn't it rain on the wicked as well as the righteous? But, sometimes the happiest souls are also the poorest.
My favorite memories are all outdoors. And, my favorite experiences involve companionship: getting high in the grass on the hill behind the baseball dugouts at Hiram with Jeremy and Eddie. Being in love, walking in the woods. Laying outside, staring at the stars under a tree. Finding in myself that everything I want is all around me. Warmth. Eyes. Stars. Shadows. Lips and hands. Sunsets. Sunrises. Heaven and hell, all wound into a beautiful world that doesn't need a book or a dollar sign. We fill those hollow places with love.
Maybe I'll never know what it's like to live in a tree.
And, I've read the King James Bible, of course.
In the dark, we find so many things, and hide from so many more.
In daylight, we often forget what they are.
Who can blame us? There's nothing to fear when we're exposed. And, there's no place to hide anyway.