(no subject)
It's amazing, how memories can be triggered. Stories, memories, the smallest things, and the biggest things, everything that pieces together to make us who we are, lies dormant in our memory, buried or on some grassy surface. But it's there. Always there. And it's the smallest things, the things that you would never expect, the things that are related, but barely related, that make those memories resurface. We shovel them up and shine flashlights on them by connotation.
Today I was thinking about sand. How you can hold sand, run your hands over it, make a castle with it, even an empire, but before you know it, when you think you have everything just within grasp, within reach, in ways that you never before thought conceivable, it slips. Out of reach. It blows, making such a mess, such a temporary blindness, that it leaves you dazed and dizzy, wondering what happened in the first place, why you put the effort into trying.
The same thing that gave you visions, now realized as delusions, of grandeur, is the same thing that will bring you down. I think that's true in all situations. Take tax returns or a book judged by its cover.
River and I, we always used to have an affinity for building sandcastles. I recall one time vividly. It was a Wednesday, it had poured down rain the night before, and we thought, perfect sandcastle building conditions. We walked down to the beach as we did frequently. It was one of our favorite places, a place we could just escape. Still is one of mine.
But we walked down, buckets and shovels, sandals, shorts, t-shirts. We built for hours on end. Four or five hours, and to children, that seemed an eternity. We put so much into it. Everything. We stood back and admired our work. We hadn't imagined the perfect packing conditions, our estimation had been right. It was beautiful, huge, something of a ten year old's dream.
Two minutes later, the waves crashed against the shore and swallowed it.
Today I was thinking about sand. How you can hold sand, run your hands over it, make a castle with it, even an empire, but before you know it, when you think you have everything just within grasp, within reach, in ways that you never before thought conceivable, it slips. Out of reach. It blows, making such a mess, such a temporary blindness, that it leaves you dazed and dizzy, wondering what happened in the first place, why you put the effort into trying.
The same thing that gave you visions, now realized as delusions, of grandeur, is the same thing that will bring you down. I think that's true in all situations. Take tax returns or a book judged by its cover.
River and I, we always used to have an affinity for building sandcastles. I recall one time vividly. It was a Wednesday, it had poured down rain the night before, and we thought, perfect sandcastle building conditions. We walked down to the beach as we did frequently. It was one of our favorite places, a place we could just escape. Still is one of mine.
But we walked down, buckets and shovels, sandals, shorts, t-shirts. We built for hours on end. Four or five hours, and to children, that seemed an eternity. We put so much into it. Everything. We stood back and admired our work. We hadn't imagined the perfect packing conditions, our estimation had been right. It was beautiful, huge, something of a ten year old's dream.
Two minutes later, the waves crashed against the shore and swallowed it.