Grady was of a different breed – altogether. He lived a comfortable life as a kid. Few friends, parents that just let him alone and a superb intellect in the subjects he felt deserved attention.
He’d write unusual stories about ‘conceivabilitoriums’ and design futuristic houses. There never seemed to be deadlines and Grady just pieced together the best parts of life to create his inner world of fantasy and Magic.
He’d procrastinate in efforts that weren’t appealing and dive into subjects that had merit, like math puzzles and abstruse words.
Even after his teenage years he could not fathom the use, or need, for negativity of any kind. Perfect freedom was always the base foundation on which everything else was built.
Miriam had been trained to be a shadow. Sure, there were occasional aspirations but they all succumbed to her idea that she was crawling through shadows of life. Suffering and pitfalls always follow low thoughts just as a wagon follows a child who is pulling it.
In her secret life within, Miriam was aware of her losses. She had given up on all of her attempts. She felt she could not compete with others while she bargained on hands and knees. With constant reinforcement she convinced herself that her failures were just too minimal and empty to be worthy of sharing with anyone else.
No matter in which direction she looked there was lack; physical, mental and spiritual. She would have cherished a rational little raft to hang on to. In her night sky there was no moon at all.
There are times when you are staring into someone’s eyes, and they are staring into yours, when knowns become unchained.
Where eyes cease to be eyes and take on the responsibility of sharing innermost secrets and desires expressible only through dreamy glances. A dimension of depth opens up which conveys a readiness of the heart, as opposed to readiness of only one individual body part.
Miriam and Grady had known each other for about two years and they had never experienced anything of depth together.
We walk this irregular pathway between history and mystery, eager to latch on to anything that will smooth out that road. And it is so easy to make navigating – what we consider our life to be.
So caught up in the whims of this world it is easy to see why so many elect to negotiate what life brings them, rather than embracing it and giving thanks for it.
What we believe is a problem or difficulty can be the most potentially uplifting and emancipating event in our lives.
An unexpected setback can provide unique moments of introspection that can’t be found anywhere else. That story that is hidden inside you, that revelation that just never materializes or that fresh, new attempt at life . . . none of them may ever be born without that special hiatus.
Imperfection is beauty, madness is stimulating. The more we feel we have to do everything ourselves precludes the Infinite treasures that could have showed up in our lives.
Perhaps the language, or languages, we learned weren’t of the highest order. Maybe we missed the ‘how-to’ of conveying feelings because of lack of words, or actions, or elevation. Or, this matrix of the sublime may just have been unknown.
We travel, congregate, share and exchange . . . but does our interaction ever bring with it the full, mature message we intended? Or, do our interactions continue to be just a memorized collection of words we hope will do the job?
Should we be able to have a dialogue with a tree in some fantasy? Should we be able to distinguish messages that may be always around us, but are never heard?
Are we void of these attributes, and many more, just because of our ties to this world? Does this world in which we live hold the answers to all the questions we have? Those strange feelings deep within us, could it ever be possible to share those as deeply as we wish?
Language may be the only limit . . .
but we are the ones responsible for making that limitation a reality.