(This is a post I wrote a while ago, but the conversation is still vivid in my memory.)
It’s prettier than it has been in a while. Outside is an immaculate, picturesque snow. The wind is blowing at just the perfect angle so that the snowflakes shoot like bullets in a diagonal line from the top left of my window to the lower right corner. All figures against the landscape have faded to dim blue lines, and the lights from the houses down the street are beacons with messages like, “The world has not stopped.” and “There is life! What you are seeing is not just a photograph.” One light in particular seems to wink at me but that is only from the pine branches that interrupt the rays with every gust of wind.
I can hardly see the keys and I have to keep the sleeves of my sweatshirt rolled up otherwise the Anberlin cd I have playing becomes muffled because the speakers are right at my wrists. I could easily turn on a light, but I’m content for the moment with the light coming from my screen.
“Don’t try to wake me up even if the sun really does come out tomorrow. Don’t believe anything you say anymore in the morn–in the morning.” (Alexithymia – Anberlin)
I just spent the last few minutes attempting to explain what I have been thinking about recently. As I said to the person on the other end of the phone line, “These past few weeks have been an interesting journey.” He responded with a deep, “Mmm…” and then effortlessly put into words what I have been trying to verbalize all week.
“It’s like… You’re living inside yourself, and then living as yourself.”
It’s perfectly said (I’m still don’t know how he does that), and yet, this is one of those times where mortal existence comes to a fine point and our feeble words trip and fall somewhere far, far behind.