something new

posted on: August 4, 2009


One night on my cruise,
{yes I am still talking about it but I promise this is the last last time}
I stood on my balcony.

I stood there on my balcony very still and very quiet, trying to pretend that my great white cruiser and I were not plowing through the otherwise undisturbed sea. I watched the sun set on my balcony. I watched that hazy globe disappear behind the horizon. I watched the last bits of orange light sink into the ocean and I watched the stars blink open. I watched what happens every night in that exact spot on the earth. And as the deepening sky and the waving water pushed all light into nothingness, as they always do, I think I held my breath. I simply could not breathe because I was not supposed to add or take anything, even a few gulps of air, from the ocean and the sky. I watched them press together until their borders imploded. Until all I could see was the gathering of blue. The darkest, most free, most stifling blue. I could feel the blue up against my cheeks and my chest, resting and crushing. But I felt untouched. I felt elated that I could see forever and then terrified that I could see nothing. And I felt something I’ve only read about and assumed about.

I felt very, very small.

The kind of small where my knees bowed and I remembered to breathe again. Gasp again. I felt worried that I was missing things like this all over the world. In every country, in every town, in every hour and minute, wonderful things are happening. Even in the very small things people whisper to each other late at night in dusty streets and cluttered apartments, wonderful things are happening. And just like I never knew about the sinking light and that penetrating blue, I will never know.

But. This kind of small is not the small that means ignorant and unimportant and unnoticed. It isn’t the small that allows me to disappear into the crushing blue. This small felt honored. I was small, but I could watch the big sky and the big waves do what they do with or without my witness. These wonderful things don’t happen for me or because of me. But I’m allowed to see some of them. I was there. I am here. Right this very joyful second.

And that, I think, is enough.

6 thought{s}:

  1. Wow.
    This is absolutely brilliant. You are an AMAING writer. I really really love this.

  2. o my goodness...i'm speechless! more like i don't want to say anything that would ruin that perfect poetry.

  3. That is profoundly beautiful!

  4. do you realize how GREAT this is??? Honestly, i can't get over it. you are such a wonderful writer.

  5. What can I say other than "ditto!"

  6. You are a great writer and you definitely have a way with words.
    This is the most beautiful thing I read lately. Absolutely beautiful!


She's a piratey soul, full a' vinegar and glitter.

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