It didn't occur to me that for Mars to be visible from Earth without the use of a telescope, Mars would have to liberate itself from it's gravitational orbit, thus throwing the entire solar system into chaos, allowing me only a brief glimpse of the Red Planet, careening through the Earthly horizon, until I and the rest of humankind burst into flames. No, that didn't cross my mind. As I've mentioned, Physics and I don't get along, so I generally try to ignore it. If Physics stays out of my way, I'll do the same.

I stood by the rocks watching the sky, thinking that maybe Mars was going to sneak up on me. Maybe it was hiding behind the high rise to my right, and would peek out, grinning, as soon as my back was turned. I had this image of a more luminous version of the character on the cover of the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe," a smirking sphere with arms, wagging it's tongue at me. I walked a few blocks north, then a few blocks south, from my lookout spot, seeking an unobstructed view. It was to be my own private Mars.

As I am ignorant of astronomy and was without a telescope, the lake and sky remained as black as it was last night, but for a few stars shyly piercing the midnight murk. The only visible red came from the blinking rabbit ears on the distant Hancock building. Mars was there, however, and somehow the fact that I couldn't see it made it even more powerful.

I stood gazing at the lake, and it occurred to me that I wasn't remotely disappointed. I found myself glad to be standing by the lake, to have found this spot by my new home that was so serene in the dead of night, that I had been taking for granted. A wave of calm stole over me. I breathed in the night, and was effortlessly happy.

It may have been one of those cliche, life-defining epiphanies, complete with waves crashing against the rocks and winds blowing my hair into my face. All these little Hellos started coming to me ... the clear, quiet epiphanies that people talk about in yoga circles. Not jolts of awakening, but creeping, welcome "hellos."

It occurred to me that no matter where I move, no matter where I work or what I've read, those things will not change me. It is not bravery that makes me want to bounce from place to place when I have not yet found a home within myself, it is cowardice.

It occurred to me how exhausting it is to dwell on the past, that nostalgia can be as soul-sucking as hatred. At the same time, ambition can be the same.

It occurred to me that everything was perfect, always.

These are awful, trite statements for me to write. They've been written on the pedastals of so many "Precious Moments" statues, been recited by so many gurus and their followers, and so many people have followed them with the same explanation: You just feel it. Again, another cliche. Such things are repeated ad nauseum by man-sanctifide demigods like Tony Robbins. But these are not things you can be told, even if you're telling them to yourself.

I'm not enlightened, by any means. But, those "hellos," those simple, uninteresting discoveries, were all things that I, for a long time, had acknowleged on an intellectual level, and I even thought I felt them in truth. I didn't. As long as I chase truth, it will outrun me, or it will hide. Nothing came to me until I stared at the lack of horizon over the lake and let the truth roll in, unannounced.

Perhaps I was just making the best of the situation, comforting myself for missing Mars. Sometimes I'm such an optimist, it worries me. (How's that for a catch-22?) I don't think this was blind optimism, though. I'm familiar with that outlook, always in retrospect, of course ... and this was not the same. It was far more comforting than that. It made more sense, without being logical in the least.

I left the beach and went home, where I stared at the floating blossom in the print of Dali's "The Rose" that hangs on my wall. An impossibly huge, impossibly red bloom impossibly hovering over an empty landscape, calming and serene in it's disturbing, surreal beauty.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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