Through this lens

We want to be memorable; to matter. We want to be needed, but not too heavily to weigh down our dreams and ambitions. We want to belong and be loved. We want to be heard. It is the human condition I suppose. We fear extremely loud noises and falling as infants, so we don’t want those occurrences in life. We want to be a part of we. Somewhere. Somehow. We want what we can’t have. If we get what we thought we couldn’t have, we then want what we had. We want to breathe deeply, inspire, touch, be touched, and feel deeply. Unless it hurts too much. And then, we don’t want to feel anything. We want to crawl into a hole and die, or fight back, or flee, or lash out, or write, or blame, or make excuses, or remain silent and shut down. It is the human condition I suppose. We want to learn about what we want to learn about, and what we need to know. We want to spend and save, consume and conserve, talk and listen, help and be encouraged, dream and sleep. We want our children to be safe and sound in addition to having all of these things as well. We want to live forever, and never get sick. We want to close our eyes at night, feeling the trickle of the heartbeats we love the most nearby. We want to eat but not get fat, and be interesting to others. We want to hit a home run every at bat, and throw a strike every pitch. We want to have the perfect words to say, and know when to say nothing at all. We want. We need. We go on living our lives making everything as fast and complicated as we can, though we pretty much want the same things. Through this lens, what sense is there in conflict, violence, hatred, lack of forgiveness, and war? Through this lens, none at all. Through this lens, I see you. Through this lens YOU see me. We have this vision even with our eyes closed. We believe deep down in the better angels of our nature. Tis why we are hurt so when it doesn’t come out that way. Clean the lens without scratching it. Expand. Stretch. Listen. Begin to know the details that make me you, and make you we. It begins.

About SIDEWAYS EIGHT

Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s