Daylight

It’s one of those mornings where the daylight creeps in and under your bed sheets in such an intrusive way that your fingers are released from their obligatory routine, the uncovering of your protesting need for rest, forcing you up and at “them”—the things of your day.

And so I am up, and wondering which puzzle pieces of my life, of the world, will fit themselves into the grander scheme today. Maybe today I will figure out my life plan, or at least for next year; maybe that same annoying daylight will elucidate the answer to cultural imperialism; maybe I will discover the reason for my sudden lazy spirit keeping me from reaching the stars; maybe today I will decide to let my heart be opened to that person begging to know what’s inside; maybe I will just keep running, avoiding all those things I know are better for me; or maybe….just maybe, I’ll be honest with myself about all those hidden introspective and personal somethings tapping impatiently at their release.

I find myself here with so many options, choices rapidly filling up the spaces in between my realism and my idealism. Suffocating me, and I’m gasping for air. Too many questions begging answers and too many paths imploring exploration. I have so many characteristics reflecting in the mirror that could be designations of a particular future, each one unique. Does my distinguished nose point me toward structure-enhancing diplomacy and rigid (or frigid) social intricacies claiming a certain (un)desirable salvation? Does my petite mouth manifest the delicate balance between respect and a one-woman quest to be accepted into a well-articulated description of your world, wherever it may be? Do my cavernous crystal eyes suck me into a life of careful observation and analytical peace with my discoveries, living with a simple profundity, gaining much and earning little? Do my attention-calling golden locks tempt me into a collection of “I can”-s and “I have”-s to the point that my conquests outnumber my sensibilities?

The daylight suddenly finds itself casting shadows in the shape of leaves, SUVs, and doubts. The latter often comes with the advancing of the time-trapped sun; if it could be erased like the life-giving drops of water sucked into drying cracks of beaten earth, maybe we’d have more strength to trudge ahead. But being eyes, ears, and conscience to the occurrences of daily humanity has the effect of making one question the meaning, means, meandering hopelessness halting our attempts at salvation. Does all that we see spur us on or hold us back? While the entrance, the filling, of daylight brought me my multitude of alternatives and plethora of wonderings, the continued travel of that daylight towards disappearance brings only frustration at how many go unanswered, laid gently—or forcefully—to the wayside.

The moments are dripping away, each one taking with it the question “What were you worth?” Each one soliciting its significance and receiving silence, or a mere “Time will tell, and we can’t overload time…” And so the light of the advancing afternoon sweeps rays across my complex reflection, illuminating each feature in turn. Nose: no, I don’t like your frigid formality. Mouth: I don’t care for your careful unwillingness to tread upon sensitive toes. Eyes: I don’t trust that you’ve found simplistic peace without cost. Hair: I can’t accept your arrogant susceptibility to beautifully diaphanous nothings. And where do these denials leave me…?

Then inevitably the omniscient daylight melts into corners and hides behind horizons, taking with it the enlightenment its focused spotlight provided. And I realize I am left alone, all this contemplation permitting access to no one save my overworked cognizance. So maybe instead of trying to give each moment the weight of the world in its implication and grandiosity, I quit, replacing unfounded responsibility with the need for simple interaction. I go and I play and I talk, letting all of this energy sucked away from the now intangible daylight be expelled and absorbed by others.

One of those days when the intrusiveness of the rays pushes you past overwhelming neuroticism to the admittance that no answer is found individually. It might be my features alone under the microscope, my features that detail my route to a certain fulfillment, but maybe my personal analysis of their meaning lacks objectivity. Maybe my nose means not frigidity to others, but impish adventure. My mouth not overly careful respect, but intelligent articulation of words previously unspoken. My eyes not philosophically peaceful, but piercingly critical. And my hair not inappropriately ambitious, but a blatant challenge to the expectations it engenders.

I let you help me decide. Together with them, together with the understanding that each day brings with it new light, shifting the shadows and changing the mirror’s reflection. So tomorrow, if the light be as intrusive as today’s, let it uncover me and impel me to you, trusting you will be there when I arrive.