Right where I want to be in life...
I'm living here on the river, and just above my door there are three swallow nests. Most of the deck underneath them has rotted away, but a few rusty old nails are still half driven through the cracks of a few remaining planks. You can stand out there and look up, and occasionally you'll see a couple of beaks hanging out from the rims of the nests. They're looking out at the world for the first time.
In the afternoons near sunset, I prefer to do nothing but just sit on that deck and stare out at the scene. The water reflects the sky and trees and tulles, and the birds swooping over it. Everything is inverted when the water is still enough. I could look up, or I could look down, and the difference between the two only gets defined at the occasional jump of a fish or the peck of a mosquito across the surface of the river. Really, when a fish jumps, it ripples the air around it just like it ripples the water. It just so happens that, unlike the ripples on the water, you have to use your ears to see the ripples in the air, instead of your eyes. But that sound of splashing-- that's what ripples in the air look like. At least, that's what they look like to creatures designed like you and me.
After a few moments things settle back down, and everything becomes still and inverted again, and the difference between water and sky, and seeing and hearing, become indistinguishable. I don't really feel lonely at all during these moments, sitting on my deck. At one moment you feel alive, with the sounds and flickering colors of the world around you, and at the next moment you feel at peace, as if you're entwined there, woven into the fabric of nature.
(You know, it's like I felt the other night, entwined there, lit by the flicker of a fireplace)
Looking out at the scene on evenings like this, I feel like I could be looking out at the world for the first time. I could be in the air; I could be on the water. I could see ripples in the sky with my ears; I could hear ripples in the river with my eyes. I could confuse the colors on the water with the colors of your cheek. I could be enthralled at being alive. I could look out at the surface of that water and imagine flying out over it. I could be sitting up there in that nest right now, starting my life anew. I could be right where I want to be.
Right now, I think I'm right where I want to be.
In the afternoons near sunset, I prefer to do nothing but just sit on that deck and stare out at the scene. The water reflects the sky and trees and tulles, and the birds swooping over it. Everything is inverted when the water is still enough. I could look up, or I could look down, and the difference between the two only gets defined at the occasional jump of a fish or the peck of a mosquito across the surface of the river. Really, when a fish jumps, it ripples the air around it just like it ripples the water. It just so happens that, unlike the ripples on the water, you have to use your ears to see the ripples in the air, instead of your eyes. But that sound of splashing-- that's what ripples in the air look like. At least, that's what they look like to creatures designed like you and me.
After a few moments things settle back down, and everything becomes still and inverted again, and the difference between water and sky, and seeing and hearing, become indistinguishable. I don't really feel lonely at all during these moments, sitting on my deck. At one moment you feel alive, with the sounds and flickering colors of the world around you, and at the next moment you feel at peace, as if you're entwined there, woven into the fabric of nature.
(You know, it's like I felt the other night, entwined there, lit by the flicker of a fireplace)
Looking out at the scene on evenings like this, I feel like I could be looking out at the world for the first time. I could be in the air; I could be on the water. I could see ripples in the sky with my ears; I could hear ripples in the river with my eyes. I could confuse the colors on the water with the colors of your cheek. I could be enthralled at being alive. I could look out at the surface of that water and imagine flying out over it. I could be sitting up there in that nest right now, starting my life anew. I could be right where I want to be.
Right now, I think I'm right where I want to be.