That Kind of Weeek
That is the kind of week I seem to be having, the kind when you keep having to check to see what day it is, what time it is, are you where you are supposed to be, what’s on tap, who’s on first, where is the car parked, and why do we exist?
The kind of week when everyone looks vaguely familiar and everything feels extra poignant and you need to remember just to breathe and not try to figure anything out.
The kind of week when it’s best not to look down, just keep moving forward like Philippe Petit when he walked between the towers with nothing but that balancing pole to steady himself.
The kind of week when you carry a mix of awe and gratitude and sadness and clarity and none of it makes sense yet it all makes complete sense.
The kind of week when you go to write something coherent and instead wind up free associating and going with it, letting it be ok to just write words without trying too hard or trying at all to wrangle them into some kind of shape.
The kind of week when there are so many balls in the air and you know they all matter yet life and death exist in the spaces between breaths, between words, between my face and yours across this big table.
The kind of week when you could sit down with a stranger and exchange tender stories, when you could sit down with a teacher and listen as he tells you what happened next, when you pour cup after little white cup of peppermint tea, the flavor brightening the inside of your mouth, and you wonder what words you would say if you spoke the languages of your desert sands and fruit trees and ocean foam.
The kind of week when nothing really changes yet something drops anchor and tells you you are home, when you decide once again to stay, stay here, stay here in this body, in this creased face, in this moment of January birdsong, in this love that asks nothing of you but brings everything forth you came here to be.
“Life should be lived on the edge. You have to exercise rebellion: to refuse to tape yourself to rules, to refuse your own success, to refuse to repeat yourself, to see every day, every year, every idea as a true challenge - and then you are going to live your life on a tightrope.”
