trust

19/12/2010 § Leave a comment

Timing is everything.

“Did you hear about the new iPhone app? You set the alarm and it will go off when the sensors detect movement up to a half-hour before the time you set. It’s supposed to be better to wake up that way because it works with your circadian cycle. Or something like that. It seems to be working, though!”

I felt like I needed to find a rhythm, a flow, a little consistency.

Last night, my friends looked worried.

“Dude, why are you leaving your keys here?”

“Because I don’t want to lose them. I am the only one opening the coffee shop at 6:15 in the morning. I can’t lose them.”

“Dude. You are not trusting yourself to be responsible by doing that.”

“You’re right,” and I smiled as I slipped them back into my pocket.

I walked in stealth to the Cloak and Dagger for its anniversary party. There, I would meet up with Tonja and Rebecca. There, I would learn about space and time as we sat at a high top with Sean, a regular with a pocket full of stories. He laid them out beside our coasters. Life, love, betrayal. Losing trust.

“You know, I just don’t think that marriage is for me.” I heard an echo.

“You know, you never know.”

“At my age…”

Struck blind by the broken hearted, the rosiness from the rich Guinness did not fade from my cheeks. Still, I wondered: Is this where we go?

“Wee b! You are a trooper. You have to wake up in 3 hours!”

“I guess we deal with the time that is given to us.”

The other night I sat up with my roommates watching one of this generation’s romantic epics (as we have many of every category). The 1899 bohemian slogan rang through my salty tears: Freedom, love, beauty and truth. This world can be how you make it.

I remember one friend asking me if I ever thought life sucked. I remember telling that friend, “no”. I remember thinking, for a moment, that it did. I also thought of my friend who told me, “if you’re living you’re winning.” It helped me think. All that is good is good and all that is bad is not bad but necessary. I remember telling that to someone. Once. How does one’s optimism fade? Perhaps it is because we stop dancing.

We grow up with ideas of our self and are told to never change. Then, we watch as our stream becomes a river or the other way around. We navigate what is given to us to the beat of a paddle.

Still, I trust that the water never changes until it reaches the salty sea and in that vast pool is where we discover that we are all dancers.

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