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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Inspiration can strike at any moment. Where will you be when the complexity of existence strikes you? Will you shake or cry? Laugh or just sit wondering? There is always beauty and truth in moments like that.

Submitted: June 10, 2015

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Submitted: June 10, 2015



It’s something about these warm June nights. Somewhere between 80 and 85 degrees hides a transcendental drug that seeps into the nostrils with the cooling breeze off of a cheap fan. It makes me think in synesthesia. I feel ideas on my fingertips, as vivid as the taste of red or sound of salt. Some concepts are gritty sand, some barely arouse the nerves at all, kind of like a hair traced across the most calloused part of the palm.

It goes without saying that everything shrivels into dust.  Just looking out my window is enough of a reminder for that. The land is slightly bowed, a large hill almost big enough to look flat, and not one natural structure aligns perpendicular. This is not man’s fault entirely. It’s true that we are designed to take, and that is what has been natural for us since we first stood upright. Outside my window, though, I can see the scars of god’s finger tracing the dirt. Tornados are not uncommon here and nothing can withstand winds that blow like that. Many things died including people, but in the end life reforms and goes on. We put up an apartment complex with big front windows which look over the flat rolling land where there are no trees, no houses, and minimal lights. It’s a place where a thinker on a warm June night can reflect about how the universe has made dust of a million worlds and will do the same to a million more, including our own. Then it will rebuild.

I’m not saying that life is not important, actually it’s the opposite. Life is a never ending ring that my mom keeps in a tea cup and simply glances at when she washes dishes. Were we born from those fertile plains in what now is barren waste? We probably will never fully understand. That is the concept that scares me most because, as any writer knows, an uncertain beginning means an uncertain end. I prefer to keep it at arm’s length. Its golden circling is something I can be assured in, but only as I look from my own cup while I go about my life. I’m terrified of an engaging awareness to it because no matter how hard I picture black in my mind I still can’t picture nothing. If focusing on everything is the answer than I am overwhelmed with the numerous vibrations of every quark around me. The weight of each atom multiples, and I am left feeling uncomfortably small and insignificant.  Whether in abundance or absence life is a glorious monster that I’d rather not get hung up on.

An interesting answer for me is to think of it in spheres. That everything moves not only forward in a loop by sideways and upside down. General Patton from World War Two used to tell people he was many great warriors that had existed in history. His soul was a soldier, and often while in Africa he would wonder over ruins or vast plains proclaiming “I died here”. I am hard pressed to believe that, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. It puts it into perspective for me. I can almost imagine a link through time that unites our nothing and everything into one. Part of me hopes that I share some biochemical bonds that united Dante Alighieri’s carbon mass or a sliver of Beowulf’s brave soul, but I doubt it.

No, it really is not that simple, as clique as it sounds. In a spherical reality there is no answer because every answer is right and wrong all at once. We are not unlike Enkidu, champion and friend to Gilgamesh, who was seduced into humanity by a harlot’s charms, and when we die we will curse and bless that harlot with the same tongue. Every molecule will be unzipped, and we will dissolve into heaven and Earth all the same. I believe you will find what you seek in existence and the lack of it. It will be everything and nothing like you thought. For many there is one god, many more worship multiple, and for others there is nothing. Those like Patton will return when the universe needs their sword.

But all of this is just really a digression that has come from a warm June night and the osculating relief of a twenty dollar fan my partner bought a few weeks ago. What I meant to capture was the orange glow of each streetlight on the block east of my home; streetlamps that shine like stars against the unfilled space of the road below my apartment window. The charged air fills my lungs, and every part of the universe buzzes.

© Copyright 2019 NatelinJean. All rights reserved.

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