There is a certain bliss in what you don’t know, things you can’t seem to remember.
To be unaware of the inner workings of an analog watch or the vast complexity of the universe in her twists and turns.
To sit and realize your plight is just that…..a plight. Somewhere you have never been before, seeing things you never imagined.
Learning words you previously had no use for.
Recognizing the painful stroll of a fellow strider. One, who moves in the same deliberate way. A chin that points inward for the want of dignity, but maybe lacking the guts to jut out into the room….to lead back into the stream. Those who motion for help only when going under for the last time.
There, the blend of terror and shame.
The cacophony of beeps, whistles. Of rings, orders. Of the nervous laughter that dulls chaos.
The retreat from the end of the rope means finding a certain courage….it is the kind of bravery that has you stretched as far as you can be.
It is the reach to feel for the end of that rope.
And to not fall for the abyss.