You’d think I would know how unique T or C is when contrasted with the world. I hesitate to say the “real world” since I don’t know what that is for sure anymore. Surreality has replaced reality.
It’s the convenience & major hassles with the flip of a word, it’s ten-mile traffic backups on highways over water, it’s blinkers & stinkers & a constancy of watching my back, locking the car, mild panic attacks, inaccurately marked highways where the signs cover two lanes but really only are meant for one. It’s smiles, shuffling feet, air conditioning or the lack, it’s heat & sweat & outright lies. It’s nasty neighborhoods & untold stories bubbling up to be shared. It’s signs like “turn around, don’t drown” when the car is hydroplaning in a sudden shower bouncing off the road; it’s a wave I could have surfed on a beach coming over the concrete barrier as a truck rushes by with no regard to its wake in the same storm. A moment of blindness & prayer: I remain on the road.
There is danger in the everyday but glory too. I choose to see the latter. I keep my mouth shut & my eyes open unless I’m sure of my audience. I enjoy all I can & even the damp moments bring dry humor later.
I did the wash, forgetting I had put some spare money in the dirty laundry bag. Opening the dryer brought me $10 bills, wrinkled & warm & funny. I have stashed money all over the car & forgotten most of where I put it. There are some surprises coming when I clean it out at the other end!
There are no postcards to be had anymore so the stamps I bought remain in the address book, those I promised to send check mailboxes in vain.
It’s exchanging a scary situation for comfort & regard with courtesy as well. In other words, it’s all love flipping along heads to tails toss after toss.
The words are worn out. Thank you doesn’t cut it for the depth of my heart’s wholeness when in joy. It’s unexpected abundance when my daughter gifts me with road cash. It’s a cool bath after making the rounds of hotels full of workmen with no room for guests. America is hungry for dollars all over & profit edges out politeness too much. We have been living with a boot on our throats for so long any song is transcendent.
I live in this ineffable moment of Ek Ong Kar = One Creator Created This Creation.
The world I see of America today is no longer a prosperous one. Stores & restaurants are closed & when I set the finder for a restaurant, like as not it is no longer there. It’s hours of business set & not kept. It’s people sitting on corners with cardboard signs,
Now I know these have always been around. I’m not naive, but I am untutored in the 21st Century. My skills date from an earlier time which was not really easier but seemed that way. It’s the difference between hard water & that which I barely feel washing over me now. It’s deep drawls & unfamiliar accents which balk in my ears.
I’ll tell you what never goes out of style: Kindness, consideration, the holding of doors, greetings, smiles, having fun with strangers – like when I ask a group coming out of a restaurant if they’ve left any food for me & they laugh. It’s rainbow sneakers with matching socks. It’s in the delicate complexions of children flashing rose & pale in moments.
I feel like a bridge between the old & new. I am a cliche, early to bed & earlier still to rise. I haven’t much vim & too much vinegar for good sense. I have a deep love & appreciation for silly stuff: remembering that all the toothpaste is in the car as I stand in a bathroom with my supersonic brush. It’s bacon & tomatoes & a sneak of chocolate but now I buy a bag to eat just two. It’s secrets & uncovering thoughts with a meeting of eyes.
Ah! Life is the everything of all of itself. I can’t complain & hardly question anymore.