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Martin
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BITS | the beginning | ||
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This is the beginning, not the end. There is hope in the fact that when
I close my eyes everything around me appears to go away. I know that it
doesnÍt actually go anywhere, but the fact that it is hidden from
my immediate vision is a start. A start on the unknown path I must now discover
and then tread. I also know that I cannot keep my eyes closed forever, but
for the next hour at least I am alone with my thoughts and the reassuring
darkness of the insides of my eyes. The stewardÍs flight announcement momentarily disturbs my restful bliss followed by a slight bout of turbulence before I again tune into the gentle hum of the engine and drift back into thought. I slowly direct my mind away from the aftermath of the last few days to let it wander freely inside my imagination. Safe at last, I settle far from harm or hate, secure from cares or responsibilities. I know that the place I now exist is not real and that I cannot stay there for very long, but the one thing I need at the moment is hope and the only way I know I can find that is to imagine it. Behind me the remnants of a conversation about designing a new marketing campaign for durable shoe rubber is blending into the rumble of the engine. The snoring of the man to my right is also changing its tone and tempo to join the building harmony. I sink deeper into my seat as this new single sound becomes the singing of an ocean and I swim effortlessly through its warm inviting brightness to my new home below the world. Having arrived at my chosen place of rest my breathing unites with the still waters and I feel the weightlessness of my body combine with the warmth all around. I still know that that this is not real but I need to stay here for a while, content to exist in a dream. ñWould the cabin please prepare the cabin for arrivalî brings me back to the world, although I keep my eyes closed a while longer, relishing the hope, knowing that it is all I have got left. Only as the plane lands and I finally open my eyes do I realise that I have been crying, my cheeks wet and my eyes still full. Not the wailing of a man in pain, but the bitter tears of a tortured heart. This is good though, I tell myself. Perhaps the tears are just despair leaving my body to make way for the hope which I now seek. Armed with a brave face and a borrowed smile I weave amongst a mass of airport traffic, not knowing whether to pity them their future or envy them their ignorance of it Martin Gladdish - January 2002 |
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