"Deep Thoughts": June 2010 Archives

There are times when I don't know how I'm feeling. Okay, there a lot of those times. And when I do know, I often wish I weren't. Feeling, that is.

Lately things catch me by surprise - I think I know what I want, and what I can deal with, and then I'm thrown some sort of a curve ball, and what it does (other than require a lot of effort to knock it out of the path of my face) is to stick itself onto one end of something that I'm not really aware of, and unravel it.

And then I'm suddenly in tears (just a bit - I rarely do a full-on cry) pedaling through the mist, because a) I didn't know I was feeling that, and b) what I'm feeling kind of sucks.

Also, c) there's rarely a damn thing I can do about it.

I had a sudden moment of realizing how broken hearted I felt about most aspects of my life, and I wasn't prepared for that, and there was nothing much to do about it, except keep pedaling.

The scenery was rather good:

half-moon rising above parting clouds
fingers of mist with streetlamps pouring yellow sodium streams into them
trees and rain and mud on the ground
smells of river and drowned flowers
that view across the water, looking for all the world like Monet's unknown masterpiece - Park at Dark

I watched the shadows of tire and chainrings, rotating.

I sometimes wonder about the impressions we make on each other. I realize the impact of a human life is about as lasting as a footprint in the sand.

Maybe it lasts long enough for the birds to notice, maybe not, but it seems to me that most of what goes on between two people happens below the surface, at the level that isn't talked about - or can't be.

I remember that scene in Moonstruck, where Cher is telling Nicholas Cage that the big part of him has no words, that it's a wolf, and that it does what it has to do between him and him.

I sometimes think it would be better if we simply interacted with each other that way. No words, no interpretations, just action and responding action.