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Click to viewLastnight I dreamed I held a balled up flower blossom in my hand, and watched it slowly open in front of my eyes. It was dark outside. A piece of green would peel back and some bright orange petals would shine through. I just kept staring at my hands and at the flower blooming before my eyes.
There are many moments on many days when I think about how people create an alienating environment by trying to respect each other's space. I see the importance of that respect, but I think we get too hung up on it with our loved ones. I really am happy to know a handful of friends who can just be together and be unselfconsciously affectionate. Someone reminded me of this yesterday.
I was sitting on the living room floor in a house, packed in with about a million other people, watching and listening to Rae Spoon. It was so crowded. These surroundings can almost enforce that alienation sometimes; everyone is so close together that they're really trying hard not to touch each other, holding their knees together, tucking their elbows in, apologizing for any accidental contact. I am listening to this beautiful music and thinking I want to share this with someone in a way that feels connected. I want to be leaning on someone or putting my arm around them. But I arrived alone, and the familiar faces I see are not those I think would be okay with this.
In the midst of the spooky folky Ghost Bees' set, someone clamours through the crowd, somehow finding bare floor to walk on, and makes their way over to me. I have never met this person, who plops themselves down in my lap and smiles wide without saying anything. Everytime a song ends, they look up clapping with a grin that might split cheeks. I ask their name and get a tiny birdlike "Pippa". Pippa stays on my lap until the end of the set when we are the only ones left sitting down. Pippa knows where it's at.
It makes me a little nervous to have this stranger there looking up at me with such unbridled glee. Pippa is maybe 3 years old, and I feel I've lost any knowledge I had during my high school years that would have applied to interacting with children, but it doesn't matter. Pippa is not expecting anything from me but a comfortable place to sit and some good company during the show. And out of this I'm getting what I needed - someone who thinks nothing of sharing this contact, who appreciates what is happening in a similar way as myself.
Later that day, I am at another concert, which I also showed up to alone. There is a slide show projected behind the stage, of photos taken at an event a few nights ago. I am in some of them; others I shot. In between songs someone approaches me and unabashedly tells me how much they love one shot of me that's in the show. They are looking at me, right into my eyes, saying "you're just beautiful". In the midst of blushing I'm laughing inside a little because this person also has photos in the slide show. One, I had been thinking, is one of the most beautiful things I've seen for a while. Stumbling over some words of thanks that seem woefully inadequate, I pull her close to me. The fabric under my hands is soft and warm and this is better than any words I could have found to thank her.
These people (not to mention those onstage, with their unapologetic love songs) have brought me back to life with their words and their hands and their eyes.