On The Space Between Flowers And The Rain
When The Greatest Show On Earth is over and everyone is gone—home—the clown sits alone and cleans off his makeup. He watches his face transform in the mirror and wonders odd things. My daughter drew me a picture today. It’s a bunch of flowers—purple, yellow, and orange—with long streaks of blue rain falling from a green sky.
I have sometimes imagined that everything in the world is exactly where it’s supposed to be, all in their places, all the way down to the smallest things that we usually deem insignificant. Like that rock on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store on the corner. And if you kicked it—that rock—if you disrupted its place, it might leave a little rock sized hole of nothing, into which the world would collapse like water swirling down a drain.
But that’s not right. Things move. Everything moves. And the world never fails to swoop in and fill the place you thought was empty. The empty world is always full. Look around. Look again.
If you are lucky enough, in autumn, to see a leaf—when does it give?—falling from a tree, to witness its graceful descent to the grass in its entirety, and if you watch it close—don’t blink—it will occur to you that it’s absolutely fucking impossible. None of this is possible. And yet here we are, tenaciously, impossibly. You can dwell on the flowers. You can dwell on the rain. But if you do, if you make the crucial mistake of choosing this or that, you will have missed the greatest fact. That the orange flowers and the blue rain are mad for one another—raving lovers—grasping at each other, achingly, to close the space between.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Reader Comments (23)
I started today to rattle your cage, to tell you that your silence out here in the ether was beginning to make me nervous.
Maybe I felt you stirring awake.
I knew I would love this when I read the title on Twitter and the first eight words brought it home. You are so right on.
Have you on a few neurons of my mind, dude, enough to admit that you finally made me cry. Quit it. {Hug.}
"And yet here we are, tenaciously, impossibly." Yeah.
perfect.
beautiful.
simple physics, everyday miracles. if you are paying attention.
this post is a wonder.
Thank goodness you're posting again. And to be purely selfish, I'd say in the knick of time as I fire guns and flowers against evil trolls. Hope you're well -- this gorgeous piece of writing stirs from some well place.
i often sit in the silence and exist.
a friend said this to me last night:
"don't be discouraged, life moves sometimes."
it really resonated. thought i'd share.
I can relate most to the little rock-sized hole of nothing.
Glad you're back. Saw the news on twitter. Take care.
Isn't rain in NV like snow in Africa? Are there desert flowers? I guess there are, because you don't do drugs.
Hope y'all are okay.
The world is full. The world threatens to collapse upon itself and implode. The world is full.
It's cyclical and perspective-dependent. Guess it's a question of what you define as the world.
My take: that picture, and the hands that drew it, are a good place to start.
This weblog is being featured on Five Star Friday -
http://www.schmutzie.com/fivestarfriday/2010/9/10/five-star-fridays-119th-edition-is-brought-to-you-by-jimi-he.html
thanks! :)
the first day i rob a bank is the first day i'm not lying to you about what i believe...the day i first rob a bank is the first day i live as an honest man. the first time i go to jail trying robbing a bank will be the day i finally get what i deserve...
-pat the bunny
xoxo
greeze
it is for nothing more than this that sometimes i cry for no reason.
Dude. Seriously. Damn.
The best thing about hanging with you last month, is that I can hear your voice when I read this shit now. Beautiful man...
Hope nobody kicks the rock anytime soon. I'd sorta like to find out how a few things turn out. Amazing writing, as usual.
Take care.
Well, that's pretty fucking inspirational and makes me embarrassed for my moments of naval gazing complaints.
i can't tell you how grateful i am for your writing.
You know that this is lovely-- like a song is lovely thick, honey from large, full lips?
(Hey, I'm not the writer. Don't read me expecting exquisite metaphors.)
I keep rereading, 'cause I can replay that rhythm and stuff.
Your writing is a gift like a pearl from sand. Abrasion made fine.
I just appreciate what you do a lot. I've read since the start, and I hope to read to the stop.
Also, Lucy, explode those fires! Insist on those questions! Don't simply obey! Acing following directions is for people who don't believe in the power of what is real and right.
sometimes your posts made me angry and stabby
sometimes your posts make me feel peaceful and hopeful (like this one)
but always...your posts make me feel something...
that's quite a gift you've got....
beautiful. just beautiful.
"... into which the world would collapse like water swirling down a drain."
Yes.
I have read for awhile, but chose to delurk today.
Brilliant.
It IS impossible,..and beautiful.