I call it the dance of dawn as the sun rises teasingly in the east each and every
morning. When it sets they say, It
nestles in the west.
They never mention its position between the two polarities, other than
to say, The scorching noon day sun,
at times, but only if they find themselves in need of shade.
We
dance and nestle, dance and nestle, frequently. But the noonday doesn't scorch, it only warms. It doesn’t really scorch until about
one or two o’clock in the afternoon.
The mid-range doesn't offend.
It has no impact other than to go unnoticed. We love the short and the long, the high and the low, the
big and the small, the broad and the narrow. But we don't really want to live with it. We prefer the status quo. We love the
unique character of the rising and the setting. We cannot remain too terribly long in its company. It challenges the senses. It demands too much emotional
response. We love for life to go
unnoticed. It's comfortable and
reassuring. It allows us each to
not be challenged. We can count on
having a break in the stimulation.
For me, although it brings relief, it also brings a sense of
disassociation.
But,
forget the sun. When the rains
come we all get wet together,
whether on the fringes of life, or caught in the middle. The rains bring a certain equality to
us all. Just a brief equality, but
just enough to know we're not too terribly different from each other. But again, I have to ask the question, Why
do some get drenched, while others barely get their feet wet? Plays itself out in class division, but not necessarily in
the field of mental fitness. We
are fittingly mental, but we continue to think we’re mentally fit.
I know the subjective nature of mental fitness - a reality that
ultimately defines one's station in life.
But there’s an enormous disparity between one’s perception, and how one
comes to be defined by that perception.
As
can be expected, the supposedly mentally fit are usually all too pleased to
acknowledge the difference for you.
Unless, of course, they are your friend, in which case they don't go
near the subject for fear they'll find themselves on your side of the
measurement, the fittingly mental
side from their perspective. When
someone wants to be your friend it tells you there's a part of you in them.
They might recognize it long before you do, but your perspective may
allow them to feel just a little bit better about their own condition. It's possible your presence in their
world answers their most feared and unacknowledged questions about
themselves. It's also possible
they simply live that part of themselves through you, never really needing to
make the hard inquiry, or shake hands compliantly with the subtle visitor who
wakes up every morning on their couch.
I call it the Dance of Dawn.
I call it the Dance of Dawn.
