Riding my bike, my mind on the disappearance of my lover, the first day of school, the perfect feeling of air on my bare skin, I am distracted. My tire catches an edge where concrete and sod meet, I fall, my calf abraded; I stand a young man ask if I am all right. I am.
Is there such a thing as a perfect moment in time. There is; it lasts until time realizes that you've been cheating them and rushes all of your stolen moments out of you in an instant. Time always wins. I know this, I've dealt with it in the past. I am not one to stand mourning, time tick-tock moves at an unbelievably rapid pace until I find someone who is capable of slowing everything down for an hour, a day. This quality, this ability to stand outside of time is relative to a person's experience of life. I have been blessed that I am able to move so calmly through the minefields. Not that I am unemotional, rather I know that emotions are relative and that time ultimately wins.
I am being pursued by a fellow student artist and do not know how to tell them that when I am with them there is no slowing of time, no magic, he doesn't know the difference between commonalities and connection. I am frustrated because I appreciate that we have so much in common, yet that alone does not implicate connection.
I am gaining access to my creative core and will have virtually unlimited access to the studios on campus. I avoiding taking painting classes. I don't want to pollute my heart.
Life is fragile, people are fragile. I fall all over myself this week. When this happens it is typically a sign of awakening, the slow return to my body after having been somewhat distant. As I re-incorporate the challenge of unification takes it's toll. Additionally, distraction and the effects of being human.
Lovingly, Chaya
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