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Withdrawal symptoms
Mar. 24th, 2014 08:24 pmOn my way back from work today I noticed this beautiful sunset. The clouds were a spectacular mix of pink and orange, painting the sky with all sorts of mythical and actual creatures.
My first instinct was to grab my phone, snap a picture and then upload it to Facebook. Then, with a slight pang of something that escaped clear identification, I remembered that "I don't do that anymore". For a minute I was sad. Sad, that I wasn't able to share this moment of bliss, this glimpse of natural beauty.
The minute passed and I realized that, for the first time in many months, I actually watched a sunset change. I stayed with it through all the different shades and shapes, saw sheep transform into dragons, fists into hats, birds into flowers. Pink and orange became fuchsia and cinnamon, soft turned almost liquid. Because I hadn't taken a picture. Because I hadn't decided to limit the moment.
And I breathed.
And I smiled.
And then I laughed.
It is impossible to share exactly what I see with you, because your eyes aren't my eyes. And even though the intent was good, to make my joy your joy, it was also a bit presumptuous. Who am I to decide what is supposed to be easy on your eyes? Maybe you are not into sunsets. Maybe you are not into fluffy clouds and pastel colors. Maybe you prefer dramatic skies, full of dark and intense colours.
I can share my joy like this, with words. You are my friends and I can relax in the assumption that you care for me enough to be happy, if just for a moment, because I am.
My first instinct was to grab my phone, snap a picture and then upload it to Facebook. Then, with a slight pang of something that escaped clear identification, I remembered that "I don't do that anymore". For a minute I was sad. Sad, that I wasn't able to share this moment of bliss, this glimpse of natural beauty.
The minute passed and I realized that, for the first time in many months, I actually watched a sunset change. I stayed with it through all the different shades and shapes, saw sheep transform into dragons, fists into hats, birds into flowers. Pink and orange became fuchsia and cinnamon, soft turned almost liquid. Because I hadn't taken a picture. Because I hadn't decided to limit the moment.
And I breathed.
And I smiled.
And then I laughed.
It is impossible to share exactly what I see with you, because your eyes aren't my eyes. And even though the intent was good, to make my joy your joy, it was also a bit presumptuous. Who am I to decide what is supposed to be easy on your eyes? Maybe you are not into sunsets. Maybe you are not into fluffy clouds and pastel colors. Maybe you prefer dramatic skies, full of dark and intense colours.
I can share my joy like this, with words. You are my friends and I can relax in the assumption that you care for me enough to be happy, if just for a moment, because I am.
