P.O.V.

A few days ago at Bean Town my friend Matt reassured me that people are overcomplicating things. He said that what I felt was normal. He sensitively said to me that I wasn’t going crazy or being overtly cynical. He went as far to remind me to keep thinking. He nudged me towards truth as opposed to the easy spread of culture, oral stimuli, deafening surroundings, and all the other competing voices I have a weakness for. Friends like Matt hand me the keys to bindings I had falsely come to accept as part of the territory of life. A few days ago, I was reminded of a spiritual absolute that holds an eternal knock on my heart: freedom: a personal imperative that rattles my bones and lures me into the lap of my Beloved… every time.

There was a moment, Sunday evening, when I felt like God and I were paying attention to each other at the same time. It was during my weekly “long” run, of course. (Aaah, yes, teaching and running– like two signature threads that will continue to weave, like rivers of life, in and out of my writing. A bit redundant I’m sure) So I was half way, an hour in, hips swinging, bad posture from achy shoulders, major butt sweat, low moral and wanting to put an end to this cruel form of self-imposed torture because, after all, I was only a block away from home if I crossed over the tracks and through the park. Then, like a chemical reaction, everything changed. “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond… it worked wonders in that club last summer, and the energy met me again. My knees rose higher and as I sang (out loud), “Sweet Caroline! BUM BUM BUM!” I gradually got louder and soon I was just laughing. Laughing and flying. Alone, pumping down the hill, cackling like a mad woman with only a great pair of running shoes as proof of a natural high.

I made it home and we prepared a feast of tupper wared stuff, wedding appetizer left overs, Chilaquiles, and combined the collection of de-corked wine bottles. I admitted my crazy moment to Cait. When I had painted the picture, she smiled like I had done something good. “That just means you’re really happy,” she said.

Pleased and pleased that she was pleased for me, I smiled back and drank deep from my wine glass until I could feel my eyes glow as bright as my heart.

~ by Jen on November 20, 2007.