Monday, September 2, 2013

Arrival



Arrival

the first thing i always notice when i step off of a plane is how the air feels in my lungs. the one thing i love about landing in hawaii is feeling the air trying to calm my thoughts. i feel my body fighting the calm, however. i questioned this discord for a long time. today, when i arrived, i figured it out.
                       
            i am not from here. and i don’t belong here.

it would appear that this is a mental block; as if anyone who moved to this island could adapt to the lifestyle, the atmosphere, the people, etc. but the more i leave and come back, the more i realize that it would be naïve to try to pass as someone who belongs here. because i don’t. i was born in the midwest. landlocked. i was born in the middle of a thousand drainage pipes leading to a thousand sewers leading to a thousand rivers and eventually it all falls from the sky and starts the whole cycle over. that’s grade school science.

            but this island
                        it’s different
                                    it’s not my home
                                                i am a tourist
                                                            whether i like it or not
                                                                       

                                                i am always planning on my next arrival.            

but now that i’m here, there’s no point in arguing semantics. physically, it doesn’t matter if i belong or not. the fact is, i am present. i have arrived. and i will be amongst the hundreds of thousands of other tourists seeking solitude.

                                    what will i do with my time?

                                                            nothing.
                                                            everything.
                                                and whatever is in between.

earlier today, i was sitting on a plane flying toward the horizon. i looked out and the sun didn’t seem to move for hours. i watched the sunset for an eternity. and i started seeing things in layers. i imagined myself sitting on the top of a skyscraper. the clouds spread in all directions and they were the new earth. a flat, weightless expanse of earth. and on top of that white layer was the burning fire red of the sun, blasting across the tops of the pearl cloud-grass. i imagined that this was the wind, blowing through the wheat fields in the country. and on top of the blasting fire red, was a soft layer of yellow. and that was the air. it filled the void between the wind and tips of space. high above this tall layer of yellow air was a green sub-stratosphere. this was the sky. a green sky. a white earth.
                                   

                        then i saw that it was just the world as we know it turned upside down.
                        and these layers, no matter what color, make us feel safe.
                        but they are just the inside of a colossal infinite expanse.
                        on either side, there is immeasurable nothingness.

i stared and stared at this sunset, for an eternity. after i painted and erased the mosaic from my mind, i started to feel as if the plane wasn’t moving at all. like our arrival depended on  catching up to the speed of the rotation of the earth and just waiting for it to revolve underneath us until this island happened to line up in our path. i felt like a finger hovering over a desk-globe, watching it spin until i could press my fingertip down
                                                on
                                                                        perfect
                                                            the
                                                                                    place.

                                                                                    and maybe then, i would find solitude.
maybe then, i would arrive at some kind of conclusion.
                        instead of searching
            for new ways to say the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over
                                                                        again.


if my mind was a map,
            and meaning was my destination,
                        and purpose was my method of transportation
                                   
how long would it take?
                       
                                    when would i arrive?

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