“wanting the tight buds of my loneliness
to swell and split, not die in waiting.
It was why I rushed through everything,
why I tore at the perpetual gauze
between me and the stinging world,”

From “Marijuana” by Chase Twichell

Every now and then, I get this awful feeling that I’m on a speeding train. I forgot to check the destination before I boarded, and now, I can’t remember where it was I intended to go. Chances are at some point I was impatient to get there, but now? And what if, despite my best intentions, I boarded the wrong train?

These are speeding train days. I’m working a full time job, handling an internship on the side, building a relationship with the Photographer, and trying to convince myself that I’m headed towards a future that will be everything it’s supposed to be, in which all the many facets of my complicated, unique self will manage to find their expression in the world and stop clawing at me for attention.

I can’t remember when I learned that it’s impossible to bring a vision unique and whole into the world. Whatever the story, poem, image or vision is in the abstract, it can’t enter time and space in that pure form. When I’m in a good mood, I think of it as giving the world a chance to contribute, to collaborate with me. When I’m not in a good mood, I’m not sure it’s worth it bringing anything out of its abstract perfectness. That’s when I get ambivalent about the train and where it’s going.

Michael Meade says, when it feels like there’s no time, you have to go to eternity to get some. For me, that means closing my eyes, forgetting the destination, and remembering that even the speeding train passes through individual moments that can be experienced, here and now.

 

 

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