How to?
The other day, I was commenting to friends about how much I love to hover.
I mean the act of self-powered flight, like Superman and Neo. Both of them can fly, and I found it interesting that in the Matrix movies, even Neo would withdraw to the edge of our little planet’s atmospheric envelope and hover like Superman — listening and absorbing all that happens below him.
Then he dives to where he’s most needed, where he can make the most difference, of course.
I find that I walk alot now.
That’s sad.
My brain remembers, remembers the neural-motor connections. My memory remembers hovering, from not-so-many years ago. And my soul remembers, driving the craving to the surface from time to time.
But it seems no matter how relaxed I become (or try to become), no matter how silly I look as I coil my body and then hurl myself toward the sky… my feet stay planted. Except in the unfortunate case of my knocking myself over.
I don’t know why I’m writing about it except that I think much of my writing has disappeared with it. I found much of my inspiration from the grange point, and now not only do I not go there anymore, but I am unable to go.
I wonder, which came first?
I still look back too much. But looking back (irony intended), it never seemed to have bad results in the past. It was a healthy self-evaluation, even if it was not keeping my eye on the target. Now I feel I am lost looking over my shoulder, losing time as I count and sort my regrets, and forget about having a target in any case.
How has this come to happen?
And– is it truly a bad thing? Just because I don’t like it doesn’t make it wrong. Perhaps I’m in a better place, a better way. Maybe I’m more resilient. More rooted. Stronger as such.
Maybe I’m just rationalizing.
But THAT’s something I’ve always done, at least. There’s some comfort.
I find myself saying things like, “I don’t really care” to myself about issues, even people. I’m becoming hardened, alright, but I’m pretty certain this facet, at least, is not a positive one.
So the question is: how to reconnect?
I don’t know that there is a way to reconnect. But that’s not a bad thing. As we sever old connections, we make new ones. Eventually, the old wounds of that separation fade and heal, leaving their scars but not their pain. And every scar is another story to tell, another line in the road map of our lives.
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