It’s been a crazy few weeks. It’s midterm season and while I have already braved a midterm exam, I have two midterm projects due next week. But then, there’s work. Two jobs… why do I do these things to myself? Factor all that in plus as active social life, an attempt at reviving a long dormant romantic life, and what do you get? You get over worked, exhausted, and a re-injured knee that sends the past year’s progress back to square four, because it’s not as bad as square one, but it’s still pretty rough. Again, why do I do these things to myself?
I’ve been frustrated with my injury and my crazy life. But, as I didn’t get called in to work my second shift tonight I decided to go for a walk. It’s Fall and my favourite time of year. I love the way the leaves turn and crunch underfoot, I love the way the air is crisp and fresh, and I love the way the frost hangs on the grass in the morning only to turn into tiny dew drops by the time the sun peaks over the horizon.
Sometimes I forget how lucky I am that I live in such a beautiful place. I’ve got nature literally at my front door. Although I’m technically in a suburb, every way I turn I see mountains. Every morning I drive down this hill and as I first descend I have the most beautiful view of the mountains and when the fog has rolled in over the city it’s one of the most serene sights.
So, I strolled around my neighbourhood and went through our little park. I turned into the forest and felt the leaves under the soles of my shoes. I took in deep breaths of chilled air and wandered around to the local elementary school. There was a young girl’s soccer team practicing on the field and the sight caused a ting of sadness in my chest. I miss my team and the game. Alas, I can barely run with my knee in its current state, let alone kick a ball and take a tackle.
As I turned around to walk back towards my little home, I started to think about writing. Yes, I know I think about this a lot. But, what am I actually writing about? What are any of us actually writing about? What does any artist actually try to convey? It’s all a little something called Life. It’s not like I stumbled on to some great epiphany, I assure you, I did not. But, when I really think about it, all art is trying to do is convey life, in any way possible. We’re all just trying to explain what it is that this crazy consciousness means or is or can be. No one really has the words or the flash or the brush strokes to be able to convey enough of it to reveal any semblance of understanding. But, we try.
Despite all my silly life issues, I forget to remember that everything is just Life. No one person’s happiness or pain is more important than another’s. We’re all in this crazy mixed up world together. Since Humanity could first lift their heads and look up at the sky, we’ve been trying to survive, to understand, to explain. This is it ladies and gentlemen, this is it.
(During my walk I was listening to the album The Earth is not a Cold Dead Place by Explosions in the Sky. So very perfect.)