When the world stops, life happens, truths unfold, and emotions are raw. This is when narrative comes to life. This is the context of relationships. I had one of these weeks. As the world was turning and I was asking all the appropriate questions: mapping my world, talking w/ colleagues, asking questions from PhD students and so forth, and I was selling bikes [my newfound hobby that keeps my mind on twisting spokes], helping crime victims, learning about my own life, learning what it means for me to live with intention today opposed to 6 months ago, etc. Yet, my world stopped as a particular phrase fell upon my ears. No, no, it wasn’t voyeuristic; it just was–it was a moment in time when the world seemed to stop. Emotions were raw; there was shock unheard of, I’m sure of it as I saw the gaze of her eyes; she had actually turned away from me. And, I’m left now to chase down words, as I let the world turn around me.
I see the pavement ahead of me. At times, I’m twisting spokes, afoot running, or other times I’m picking up my feet one-by-one and placing them in front of one another and simply walking. In Texas, I could see the steam rise from the interstate, but here in Chicago, what captivates me is my purview of the Lake, the urban structures and the vast sky that is oftentimes warped by the City and his phallic structures. Sometimes my world stops in these moments. Unlike in Texas, there are no tumbleweeds, you can’t fry an egg on Lake Shore drive because its certainly not that hot up here, and there are NO barditches. But, there is a world that is turning and full of life and I’m hitting the pavement to chase down words.
The world perhaps is my locus of words, but my canvass is my MacIntosh and my journal. I’ve not cracked open that journal since completing my thesis and PhD applications. And, since I’ve come to a road in my life [a tunnel perhaps] that has possibly invited me down into its winding way, I’m happy, so very happy, to say adios to another degree [after all, I don't need any more academic decoration] and simply want to focus on translating high critical theory into manageable and tangible pieces of literature. That’s always been my desire…or is it passion?!
I’m guessing this might come in the form of memoir and other creative non-fiction pieces, along with submission to magazines. Molly Ivins comes to mind as I think of my transition to chasing words, instead of chasing down critical analysis. What I am able to say, in the form of a sort of historical memory, is that I’m grateful for the critical training that I have as one who is able to analyze deeply and read broadly. You won’t always need a dictionary to read my works!
This morning, I should mention, however, that as I was eating my pre-workout breakfast, I sat in silence and let words fill my head! Its a sort of Zen practice and a new one of sorts!
Right on, say I!
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