Waking Up

Finding meaning in oblivion.

 

 

 

 

            Last night I drove to the lake.  It was cold, breezy and snow was hovering in the air sort of dusting the atmosphere.  I pulled down my red wool hat, buttoned my jack and perched on a lone tree stump to watch the moon reflect on the nearly frozen water.  I’d drive a million miles for that kind of silence.  No television background noise.  No yelling neighbors.  Not even the under tone of electric current that we are so used to that we never really hear it until it’s gone.  I reveled in it and bore the chill.

 

            Out there, beneath the stars, the moon, the galaxy, I sat.  I felt the release that comes with revelation, that I am just a microscopic spec in this great expanding universe and all of this chaos, that I call my life, really means nothing at all.  It is easy to surrender the ego to the night.  It is so much easier to breath.

 

            I thought about many things, but mostly I thought about the notion of priorities.  The job that I hate, the money that I require, the car that I drive and even the food that I eat, it was all so well prepared.  How properly trained I was without ever realizing it.  Words when lost of their meaning become just sounds and syllables.  I want to forget this language and feel again. 

 

            I see the world around me and it is a playground, but every ride has a price.  We sell out our days for a paper idea that we then trade for a spin around the carousel.  When we’ve come full circle, we just do it again.  All the pretty little distractions, they all pale in comparison to this.  To just be, without demand or purpose, that is my grace.

 

            I pulled off my red wool hat.  I unbuttoned my jacket, discarded both to the ebony lagoon.  Shoes and socks were next, and I’m not sure if I had really ever felt snow between my toes before.  My little black dress floated upon the surface for several seconds before disappearing beneath the mirrored moon.  Standing there, naked and shivering, cold and alive, I stepped into the water.  Holding my breath, I forced myself to dive into the stinging sea.

 

            I dove down deep, skimming my belly against the rough floor. Sea weed tangled around my limbs, up my back, around my breasts, kissing my throat.  Fish of all sizes, shapes and colors darted in and out of my drifting hair.  As I swam further in, the floor dropped, and everything turned black.   

 

          Hovering in the liquid world with no up and no down, no left and no right, I smiled and was quite content.

 

           

Reviews

[Domenic Luciani]

the setting and scenery were interesting and easy to visualize, it does have a sort of dark tone but as I read it, I felt like I was indulging myself on the darkness.
I really liked this.

[Samuel Dickens]

This is very well-written, imaginative and visually rich. Escaping the vane, tangled world to find purity and truth in the way you described is wonderfully dream-like. For what I would describe as somewhat "dark" writing, this is some of the best I've seen. Bravo, Joan.

[Joe]

I really like this. It has such great description and such a relaxing feel. Greatjob! Keep it up!

[Deaths Cold Kiss]

i love this, its very descriptive