If a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one there to see it, does the tree think, "how did I get here?"...
These are the kind of funny riddles that fill my brain at night. They're always with me, like those fine white hairs you find randomly on your body and wonder, "how on earth did this get so long without me noticing?" Thoughts are like that, they grow inconspicuously. They link fibers with other long white thoughts, so when you finally notice one and try to pull it, you get lost in a web, fingering the strands like prayer beads. When I find my way out of one of these ponderous rabbit holes, I'm usually exhausted; and sometimes, if I'm still, that exhaustion changes into something serene. Being.
I'm someone who can take comfort in clichéd proverbs like patience is a virtue or Rome wasn't built in a day. Though I don't own any inspirational pillows or mugs adorned with such sayings, I'll write them down once in a while as a reminder that the lessons I'm learning aren't so singular. Other people have the same problems.
It occurred to me today that the life I was leading back in Denver wasn't all that different than now. I just don't have a ritual yet to cling to and make me feel comfortable. I don't have a job yet, dictating which days are not my own. I don't have mundane to do's yet like grocery shopping or laundry (thanks auntie Marianne). I don't have friends yet to remind me when I'm being mopey and self-involved. So what does that leave me with? My thoughts. And just like back in Denver, I still enjoy camping out in a café with my journal and some philosophical/spiritual self-help-like books.
Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. I know, again with the aphorisms; but this one truly resonates with me, the over-planner. I personally think these sayings would be great in icing form on top of cakes. Instead of writing Happy Birthday, you could put: Time is a river that flows by and doesn't return, now blow out your candles! But in all seriousness, life just can't be that serious all the time; and it definitely can't be planned.
It hasn't even been a full 24 hours since my last post, but alas I've already been asked again why I'm in Switzerland. It came from a fellow dancer after our morning training. The teacher had conducted class in Swiss German, which for those of you who don't know, sounds like a combination of slurred, slangy, German and guttural, hissing noises like you're about to spit something that's been stuck in your throat. I faked my way through it somehow, nodding along and laughing when everyone else did. When we had finished and everyone was filtering into the dressing room, a girl stopped me and began speaking. When she realized I hadn't understood a word, she switched over to her English setting as easily as a GPS and asked me the famed question, "So what are you doing here?" after wiping the sweat away with a towel, I replied, "Living."