Fleeting

Apr 30, 2021

Sitting at my desk of glass and metal, I am reminded that glass is actually liquid sand, and that it was only a few centuries ago that aluminum forks were for only the finest guests. The gold was left for the usual suspects at the other tables. And now we have liquid sand everywhere and aluminum is considered cheap. Beer can motorcycles sold at craft fairs at super cheap prices. It’s a strange thing. Recycling is magic.

Staring out the window, I see houses hunched over with perfectly coiffed roofs. Dressed to impress, and painted in fleshy tones. All colors of flesh, and even the grey one reminds me of an ashy visage when terrible news has been delivered. Large and leafless trees stand above them all, the grand conductors of my neighborhood. I wonder how they feel about us, or what they even feel. Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, I suppose.

And in this moment, as I gaze out the window with what I assume is a blank look on my face, I am reminded of how much beauty is in the world. What is the point of all of this if we are immune to the beauty around us? Evolution takes millions of years, and yet refrigeration and even the printing press have been with us for such brief moments. It’s easy to miss the art in a cup full of markers, or the pops of color in the pantry. Or the perfection of the craggy branches of my neighborhood conductors, drawn in a way it would take you or I quite a bit of labor to replicate.

Gautama found his enlightenment on the bank of a river. Where will you find yours today?

You can’t keep it. The moment you know you’re enlightened, it’s gone.

Maybe the plague will get us. Or the fascists. Or the climate. Or some driver who isn’t paying attention. Or the cholesterol. Or maybe we’ll live to the ripe old age of one hundred and twenty-three, remembering when how things used to be and that how things used to be was we were younger and people were still people.

None of that matters today. If we miss the opportunity to be moved by life now, we’re kind of missing the point.

Keep grinding and keep on keepin’ on. Don’t forget to come up for air. Savor every breath.


#inspiration #ArtisLife

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Written By Mic Mell

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