March 15, 2009

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In a perfect world, this post would be a short film.  You would see me lying in bed, eyes dark with the fatigue of my thoughts, deep in conversation with the hubster.  The soundtrack would be “Come to Me” by Bjork.  Do it if you can.  See me, hear my voice, put on the music.

I’ve always been a pretty introspective person.  I listen, sometimes too well, to the world, my inner thoughts and feelings, analyze them, ponder how to move forward.  Usually, it is a seamless process and I move like a leaf drifting joyously in the current.  Other times, I feel more like I am tumbling hard down a talus slope where certain death awaits me.

At these times, I find more questions than answers, none of them easy.  I look at my life, deeds, and words and make a vain attempt to piece together something valuable from a collection of days that seem so insignificant.  Is this how everyone feels, but only few share it?

Then, as grace would have it, I got an answer.  My friend Bridget e-mailed me, saying this afternoon felt like one for a movie, so we headed over to the Laurelhurst to see Synecdoche, NY.  The story touched a place deep in me, almost like I was hearing for the very first time, so much so, that I took my notebook and pen from my purse and wrote my impressions (thank you Charlie Kaufman!).  Yes, I was the kooky lady scribbling furiously in the dark, yet in the light, for all the questions of my day, and these past few days, were illuminated.  Here’s what I wrote:

Maybe this is what we do?  We construct what we think is.  Our life is composed of sets, real and imagined.  We play parts, but are any of them the real versions of ourselves?

Things happen over and over again.  Is it penance or just a pattern to be repeated?  We love, suffer, feel lonely, experience joy and wonder.

Can we construct our reality beforehand, make the set what we desire?

Are we dead or not yet born?

We compress memories and shift time.

Do we come to a point at which we drift, someone else’s hand at our back, gently guiding us, giving us our words?  Is this happening now?

I got answers and questions, but mostly a sense of relief.  Yes, Colleen, we all do this, in similar and vastly different ways.  You will encounter these questions again, but that is what life is, and until someone whispers “Die” into your ear, you can make it what you like.