Quixotic Dreams
My friend Missi and I seem to have uncannily similar minds. We always seem to springboard off each other's thoughts and inspirations, and we often seem to know what the other is feeling. A fellow INFP, she understands intuitively my acceptance of paradox, and that what I express, mostly, is not solid judgement, but fluid feeling. A few months ago she was going on a volunteering vacation, and I told her, the air smelled like she was going away. I got the same olfactory sensations I often get when I'm headed somewhere. I didn't think anyone else could understand that, but she said she knew exactly what I meant. If you're in a bad mood, you tend to look at the world differently than if you're in a good mood. When I'm about to embark on a journey, the world tends to smell differently than when I'm staying home (perhaps some sort of primal nomadic instinct?) In any case, we tend to understand each other, and comfort each other that we're not alone in our quixotic dreams. There are times when I'll be embarassed to share something with her, because I think it's too crazy, but she understands and it hits close to home. Sometimes she'll feel embarassed and apologise for sharing her own "inner freak" with me, and I have to tell her how closely I relate, how validating it is to me, how I long to hear others express exactly what she tries to express to me. It's such a tragedy that people hide their true nature, or even genuinely forget themselves, because they're tired of being different, of being misunderstood. I guess it's easier to just "get along." We all do it, it's just a matter of extent. It's a shame how many beautiful people I haven't really seen because they haven't allowed me to see them. And how often have I, when I notice someone looking into my eyes, abashedly looked away and pretended I didn't see it? How many connections have I not allowed to form? I guess it's for the best -- I never used to appreciate people or empathise with them as I do now, and I just might have ruined one great thing after another. But... we have no idea how beautiful we are, behind our banal facades of normalcy. We have no idea how valid our dreams really are.
My most genuine longings remain sleepily subconscious, until perchance someone happens to express them, and proves they're not so fantastic or foolish as to defy the law of what can or may be imagined. And they must be imagined, just as a single grian of sand must be wished upon. Every once in a while I discover that, not only can they be imagined, but some brilliantly creative and practical people are actually putting them into practice. What was an impossible dream to me, for a few rarefied individuals, is their life's work. I wonder how I could have been so inconfident, could have ever doubted that castles can be built in the air? And so I dream. I am surrounded by objects that are, not mass produced or standardised, but crafted with patience, love, and care, and with the understanding that there are endless ways to make even a bowl or spoon beautiful. I slide out of my treehouse, and you out of your windmill, and we play Hook and Pan on our pirate ship till dawn. We stroll through our secret garden. Sometimes we make noises, say and do things that don't make sense, but there's no judgement, and we're just happy to be alive. Natural beauty surrounds us and everything else is a reminder of our own creativity and essence. A four person bicycle adorned as a regal chariot approaches. Ethereal music as from a harp emanates from the spokes as they turn. It becomes clear that these aren't 'objects' at all, for in the passion and soul we put into them, they have merged, and become part of us. Our friends disembark. We laugh and blow bubbles as we head leisurely off to work. We grow crops, make clothes, and keep ourselves warm. But we're alive, and we're grateful, and that makes it an economy of joy. We sing, and dance, and create, and relate. We do what we do because our souls require it. We are never alienated from our environment, our work, our actions, or our friends. They are all a part of us. Everything we do has a purpose, and that purpose is life.
I have another dream that involves bicycles. My personal goal, to get in good enough shape that the bicycle is a fun and feasible alternative to the automobile even if I need to be 600 miles from here and have a week to spare. I dream of a future in which human mobility isn't dependent on automobiles, in which Greyhound accepts unboxed bicycles, in which train stations encourage commuters arriving via bicycle, in which I can ride from here to New York City without leaving a bike path. Thankfully Massachusetts is already pretty good, and slowly getting better. Just about all state public transportation is bicycle friendly. I also learned a little known fact: though Greyhound itself doesn't accept unboxed bikes, PeterPan/Greyhound does, at the driver's consent and on a space available basis. (Just print out the company policy from the website, not all drivers are aware of the policy). And there are two big bike paths being constructed, one between Worcester and Providence, and even one between Northhampton and Boston, a sort of bike alternative to the Mass Pike. One of these days I'm going to have to take my bike on a train and find a nice place to ride. Maybe Salem/Marblehead and Cape Cod.
I had been going to the gym almost every day, doing upper body weight training, and riding the exercise bike. There's a man who comes into the gym who's always talking about his bike excursions, so I was inspired to take my bike out on a tour, to see what I'm capable of. Just a couple months ago, I complained that there was something wrong with my bike, because it took so much effort to pedal a half a mile. I was just hopelessly out of shape. Not so now. I took my bike on a 25 mile tour and it felt great. I found myself smiling at my bike thinking about what a great tool it is, and how grateful I am for its invention. It took a little while to get warmed up, but after a while I was unstoppable, gliding down hills, through natural scenery, the wind in my face, the endorphins, feeling a real sense of accomplishment at getting from here to there with my own raw power. I rode to my grandfather's house, and then back, via a different route. I overexerted myself a little bit, and started to feel some lower back pain towards the end of the ride, which unfortunately I'm still feeling. Also... my butt hurts... but I guess that's normal for someone who never rides. I think I'm going to fast for a couple days, since fasting always seems to do wonders for my back pain, and my digestive system's been telling me it needs a break anyway.
My most genuine longings remain sleepily subconscious, until perchance someone happens to express them, and proves they're not so fantastic or foolish as to defy the law of what can or may be imagined. And they must be imagined, just as a single grian of sand must be wished upon. Every once in a while I discover that, not only can they be imagined, but some brilliantly creative and practical people are actually putting them into practice. What was an impossible dream to me, for a few rarefied individuals, is their life's work. I wonder how I could have been so inconfident, could have ever doubted that castles can be built in the air? And so I dream. I am surrounded by objects that are, not mass produced or standardised, but crafted with patience, love, and care, and with the understanding that there are endless ways to make even a bowl or spoon beautiful. I slide out of my treehouse, and you out of your windmill, and we play Hook and Pan on our pirate ship till dawn. We stroll through our secret garden. Sometimes we make noises, say and do things that don't make sense, but there's no judgement, and we're just happy to be alive. Natural beauty surrounds us and everything else is a reminder of our own creativity and essence. A four person bicycle adorned as a regal chariot approaches. Ethereal music as from a harp emanates from the spokes as they turn. It becomes clear that these aren't 'objects' at all, for in the passion and soul we put into them, they have merged, and become part of us. Our friends disembark. We laugh and blow bubbles as we head leisurely off to work. We grow crops, make clothes, and keep ourselves warm. But we're alive, and we're grateful, and that makes it an economy of joy. We sing, and dance, and create, and relate. We do what we do because our souls require it. We are never alienated from our environment, our work, our actions, or our friends. They are all a part of us. Everything we do has a purpose, and that purpose is life.
I have another dream that involves bicycles. My personal goal, to get in good enough shape that the bicycle is a fun and feasible alternative to the automobile even if I need to be 600 miles from here and have a week to spare. I dream of a future in which human mobility isn't dependent on automobiles, in which Greyhound accepts unboxed bicycles, in which train stations encourage commuters arriving via bicycle, in which I can ride from here to New York City without leaving a bike path. Thankfully Massachusetts is already pretty good, and slowly getting better. Just about all state public transportation is bicycle friendly. I also learned a little known fact: though Greyhound itself doesn't accept unboxed bikes, PeterPan/Greyhound does, at the driver's consent and on a space available basis. (Just print out the company policy from the website, not all drivers are aware of the policy). And there are two big bike paths being constructed, one between Worcester and Providence, and even one between Northhampton and Boston, a sort of bike alternative to the Mass Pike. One of these days I'm going to have to take my bike on a train and find a nice place to ride. Maybe Salem/Marblehead and Cape Cod.
I had been going to the gym almost every day, doing upper body weight training, and riding the exercise bike. There's a man who comes into the gym who's always talking about his bike excursions, so I was inspired to take my bike out on a tour, to see what I'm capable of. Just a couple months ago, I complained that there was something wrong with my bike, because it took so much effort to pedal a half a mile. I was just hopelessly out of shape. Not so now. I took my bike on a 25 mile tour and it felt great. I found myself smiling at my bike thinking about what a great tool it is, and how grateful I am for its invention. It took a little while to get warmed up, but after a while I was unstoppable, gliding down hills, through natural scenery, the wind in my face, the endorphins, feeling a real sense of accomplishment at getting from here to there with my own raw power. I rode to my grandfather's house, and then back, via a different route. I overexerted myself a little bit, and started to feel some lower back pain towards the end of the ride, which unfortunately I'm still feeling. Also... my butt hurts... but I guess that's normal for someone who never rides. I think I'm going to fast for a couple days, since fasting always seems to do wonders for my back pain, and my digestive system's been telling me it needs a break anyway.