Physics 101 and a Story

Shutting the old suitcase she hears the clasps click and lock. One hand folds around the handle and the other cradles her coat. Silently she stands staring at nothing. Her eyes learned long ago to close and see nothing even when opened. The sigh goes unnoticed save for the movement of her blouse. Quickly, she turns and heads for the door.

The phone’s ringing grasps her heart with the same grip that her hand held the door knob. Neither one will let go. Neither one will cease their current state-ringing and unopened. Perhaps it was the pounding of her heart that kicked the door ajar and she stepped out on to the front porch. The answering machine begins to play through the curtains of the open window. She walks back along the worn path in the carpet to the bedroom. Opening the closet door she sets the suitcase on the floor. It was empty, nothing to unpack. She just thought when you go somewhere you should pack a suitcase. Closing the closet door it occurs to her that maybe, since she never packed, that was why she always went nowhere.

Physics argues that no two physical objects can be in exactly the same place at exactly the same time. One must be displaced. The argument does not hold true to light. Certain forms of light can exist at the exact same place and time. Where we may physically, through our own will power or efforts, displace despair, negativity and fear with hope, wonder and courage, is it possible, that their lights will still overlap? Is that why even at the peak of joy we feel a touch of sorrow?

Our journeys and encounters, like the Canterbury Tales, bring about collisions of different emotions, descriptions of the promised land and home. Our happy moments are suddenly displaced with sadness, our positive attitudes become negative or our fear becomes courageous and our daily deaths, like dry bones in the desert, are resurrected to live again. And, could it be that all of these emotions and attitudes are the same? Seeing only the displacement or collision feeds our belief that nothing good ever lasts or could happen to me.

Could these varied feelings be nothing more than overlapping lights? What would happen if we saw them as the sky when both the moon and sun are awake and the moon’s darker colder light overlaps with the sun’s warmer brighter light? We call that overlapping a sunrise or sunset and stand in awe. What would happen if we saw the lights of emotions as dancing parallel, touching, parting and overlapping rather than the displacement and collision we fear? Would our journey be bolder, more daring and perhaps a bit softer with this acceptance? And in the silence of light, not the collision of displacement, what other voices could we hear?

Her hand upon the door knob absorbs its cold metal touch. The phone rings again, and again, her heart pounds. Ever the faithful companion, her heart once again kicks the door open. She stops. When the answering machine comes on, a smile walks across her face. She whispers, Hello, as I used to be, as I am and as I will be are not here at the moment. Please leave a name and number and I’ll get back to you. I’m sorry you missed my calling. She steps into dawn’s light with nothing in her hands but what she chooses to grasp.

Raining Acorns

     I do not believe the saying “into everyone’s life a little rain must fall.” To say “I believe” means I have the choice to not believe, to disbelieve the saying. The reality is, whether the physical rain or the metaphorical rain of life’s challenges and disappointments, rain, yes, will fall. In the end, it is not a matter of belief or disbelief. The rain, simply, is and the nature of rain is to fall. 
     I may not like it and pout or rail against the rain. Alternatively, I may embrace it with the fullness of hope. To curse or question the rain that falls and not also mourn the seed’s husk that is shattered, when the sprout seeks the sun, suggests my focus is not so much on the nature of rain or growth but what happens next, what I see. One rains on my picnic and I’m not pleased. The other, the seed’s husk cracking wide upon, is masked and unnoticed by the beauty of the flower. I do not tell the acorn that is shattered, so that the oak may grow, that into every acorn’s life a little rain must fall. No, it is the wonder of the beauty and strength that springs from the tiny seeds and acorns that arouses the poet’s heart.
     Do I dare to think both are the same- rain and the husks of seeds?

Scanning for Updates

“Windows has important updates to install.” Hmm. Click.

“You may continue working while Windows prepares updates.” Click. Click.

“Windows must restart to install updates for programs and services. Save any open files and restart your computer.” Huh? You said I could…

“Do you want to restart now?” No!

“Windows must restart to install …” Click. Click. Click. Wait.

“Windows is configuring update one of three. Do not turn off your computer.” Naughty Beth. Just wait.

The black laptop screen reflects my image.

Restart complete.

“Windows has updated your computer. Click here to see the updates installed.” Go for it. Click.

“Security Patch KB0..” click.

Note to God: Um, if I may, did you see that?

Note to Beth: Reboot.