For When The World Stops Standing Still

EVENTS — Creatively Lancaster

Let’s be real. We have no blessed idea what happens from here, I mean, once the lights go back on. Because to believe there will ever be a normal kind of normal, well . . that went away with September 11th. Everything and every day since has been a differently textured sense of normalcy, to which we held because there is something called the everyday to attend to, after all.

Now this, and now the world . . the whole entirety of it, holds its breath in anticipation of light at the end of a tunnel we never saw coming.

Things will change, because that’s how any kind of abrupt intermezzi works on the human psyche. We change, if only in miniature. But still, the things we hold to will have their aesthetic pulp to which we can still be quenched. Just this morning, I was thinking about certain of these items to which my pulse expands. And I knew that no matter what the world ends up looking like on the B side of things, these things will hold me to.

Always.

  • Walking into a baseball stadium and looking out over the field of play and just marveling at the heavenly construction. Wondering how it was possible that someone conceived this mystical design: the idea that fielders could master the vast expanse and pitchers would be able to make a small white pill speak foreign languages whilst hitters could turn on one in the time it takes to blink? And the dimensions of that diamond will seem the most fantastical endeavor of them all. As legendary columnist Red Smith once opined, “Ninety feet between bases is perhaps as close as man has ever come to perfection”.
  • The hush that comes over a movie theater when the crackle of the featured attraction starts to pop across the screen.
  • That buzz, the gloriously definable buzz that washes over a restaurant as dozens of loose conversations weave themselves together. Accompanied by mysterious noises from an unseen kitchen, the clink of glasses. And laughter, ransoming its way across the walls as if you could pick it up and take some for yourself.
  • Standing in front of a piece of art and letting time fall away, like so many leaves on a mysterious tree. Wondering what captured the imagination of the artist to figure out that kind of magic.
  • Running in the park on a spring morning as I pass by a fellow who’s having better luck with his smokes than with dinner. Dogs run across the emerald sweep as their owners toss them a ball. While kids and their parents negotiate the parameters of their afternoon and kites break the sky into small and wondrous pieces.
  • Hugging
  • The sound of a jet overhead as it navigates the muffled crease of a moonlit night. And for a moment, you wonder where that plane is going to and where it came from. And how the world is just this: A collection of fragmented stories, pieced into billions of pieces we will never get to know. And yet, we somehow understand.
  • High fives
  • Book stores, whose perimeters are lined with pilgrims of the written word and java junkies and festering brush fires of idle conversations.
  • City traffic that gets captured by a photographers lens and immortalized in a million different ways that we somehow take for granted.
  • A stranger’s smile
  • Holding hands

For now I lay my head on the pillow and think about a world that caught fire. And perchance there is a dream to be had, and if so I want to dream about some quiet, normal day when all of this will be relegated to hushed whispers.

And nothing more than that.

46 thoughts on “For When The World Stops Standing Still

  1. Those holds are perfect and made me smile. I still marvel whenever I enter a hockey rink knowing that less than 24 hours ago before, a professional basketball team played on the surface (The Pepsi Center has a real quick turnaround). Lately I’ve been truly savoring the simple sights Mother Nature is supplying that I have perhaps taken for granted in the past. This morning, following a lovely thundershower last night, I notice many lilacs burst forth with their beautifully scented blooms. The scent has never smelled as good. Happy Sunday.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Monika,

      There is so much inside the simple, quiet places, isn’t there? I am always amazed by it, never more than right now since yanno . . we don’t have these simple things that mean so much.

      And I know, right? There is nothing like overlooking an arena or a stadium before things get started.

      Nature is providing, abundantly. I see deer everywhere. Raccoons taking charge. And the ducks and the birds are building condos, like . . everywhere.

      And the blooms . . it’s one of my favorite things inside a run.

      Happy Sunday to you

      Liked by 1 person

  2. B,

    I know it’s Sunday when you give us these writings. No. We have no blessed idea of what lies ahead. And normal is such a huge word when we stop and realise what we have been living for almost two months now. And we don’t want to return to the normal we knew, do we? Not a lot of it.

    That the whole world is living this together is a gift. Everyone understands that this is otherworldly. (Well, minus the a-holes who think they understand but don’t act like they do.)

    Things have to change even if it only lasts a short while because we humans are a demanding lot.

    Your list is a wonderful list. I could add a few, I am sure, but shall refrain and add a list of what I hope remains when the lights come back on.
    – strangers smiling hello as you pass them
    – families cooking and eating together
    – not rushing from one “important” thing to another
    – walking: to the corner store instead of taking the car; hand in hand just talking and enjoying the sounds of nature not being interrupted by the noise of non-stop traffic,
    – respecting others for their contribution. Never before have janitors and cleaning personnel and grocery store cashiers, etc. been given the respect they deserve; that they are getting now.

    Your dream will come true. We just don’t know when.

    Wonderful, joyful music to go with this lovely, reflective piece

    Q

    Liked by 1 person

    • Q,

      The thing about each new chapter of ‘normal’ is that none of them ARE. They’re simply the next chapter to a book whose words are entangled in chapters long gone.

      Global. World. All of it. I know there are a great many people who localize the situation. It’s human to personalize, but it’s also important to understand we are not the only ones. It’s everyone and it’s everywhere.

      Beautiful list indeed. And it will be so, for those of us who take this moment in time with us. And we call do carry something, don’t we? So we may as well make it something worth carrying.

      It will. I know. And I’ll be ever more thankful and appreciative for it.

      I’m into these jams right now, and this seemed the perfect song. To venture back the mountains from whence we come. And to be able to overlook the great big canvas below and understand it’s all connected.

      B

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I think we all will be more conscious of the things you mention Marc. I was out in the backyard and was surprised to hear a jet going overhead. It was such a strange sound I had to look up. I didn’t see it but also I haven’t heard that sound for quite a while. Have a peaceful Sunday.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. What minor league stadium is in that picture?

    Your description of walking into a baseball stadium is spot on. Every time I go to a game, there is a moment when I first get there when I just need to pause and breathe it all in. It just hits all of the senses, including the smell of garlic fries or heated plastic nacho cheese. The sights and sounds.

    And you hit the nail on the head in your other elements. The hubbub of conversations in a restaurant.

    This was perfect.

    Liked by 1 person

    • King,

      That’s Clipper Magazine Stadium, where the Independent League Barnstormers play ball. I love how I can move around during the game, and I usually spend the last inning in one of the “bleacher seats”, trying to see if I can catch a home run.

      Nothing like it. No sport has that feeling that a baseball stadium gives you. It’s like walking into a cathedral. You can almost feel the stories that have happened there.

      And how is it I only crave a hot dog when I’m at a game?

      It’s the simple things that keep.

      Thank you.

      Like

  5. I love this. It goes back to you never know how much you enjoy something, the little things, until it’s missing from your life. I pray we all experience the little things that matter to us soon.

    Liked by 1 person

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