Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Words of Comfort from an Old Schoolmate

I am always impressed by the desire to connect, to reach out and touch someone with words. I guess that explains my fascination with online media - youtube, twitter, facebook. Many times, it is just an individual caught up in this idea that the world revolves around him or her - that friends and strangers are better for knowing what they are doing. Or yearning to know every move they make. I try not to get caught up in that illusion. But every now and then, it's fun to play in.

Sometimes these internet aficionados stumble (knowingly so at times) upon the power and possibility, the art (two letters shy of heart - lets add them in), of words. I am so grateful for these beautiful moments, when a single line can reveal so much depth of thought, feeling, or vision. Sometimes these few words unintentionally smack you in the face and grip your heart. Sometimes words make you chuckle out loud garnering quizzical looks from coworkers. And sometimes a message from an old acquaintance can release beautiful, healing tears.

One thing about facebook that always seems to boggle my mind is how it affects my perception of time. Yes, I can spend hours playing farmville (I want that damn Japanese tea house already, gah) or refreshing my friends' status updates - but that isn't what I mean when I talk about perceiving time. It's amazing to see how old friends have changed, to see how their lives are exciting or tragic or full of love (all very good qualifiers of a life well lived). If I ever need to be humbled, I just click through the old pictures of myself. I watch myself grow.

The other day, I mused to myself on my walk back from the subway. Time is like water spilled on a lacquered surface. It puddles up at first, and slowly begins to reach outward refracting light as it does. This light bounces off of each and every one of us - we've all been touched someone else's time. Sometimes it moves quicker than expected, it hits an unbalanced patch of woodwork and speeds away. Other times it hits a knot, or a rut and seems to pool in one area forever. Time is constantly replenishing itself, and the surface of life is infinite. Soon enough I am 23, post college, trying to say goodbye for now to a woman I have loved (and will love) all my life. And still I am amazed at how I am 5, and 10, and 15 in an instant. Memory is the ability to view what is infinite - to view time again and again. The pool of water turns in on itself, rounds a curved corner of the surface and comes right back. Memory bends time...