The Eye of the Beholder
All the difference is whether there’s a hand to hold, or a hand nearby to run to hold, or no hand at all. With a hand to hold, all the world is a wonderful place, all excitement and shiny newness and bright colors and things to do and try and see and feel. With a hand nearby, any place is the joy of exploration, of doing and running and jumping and trying and laughing. With a hand nearby, the world is safe, and children are loved, and all is good.
The only problem is if there’s no hand at all. With no hand at all, the world is incomprehensible, frightening, and I am timid and shy and afraid of the dark and call out for the return of the hand. I love you and you love me so why shouldn’t we be together all the time?
But the most wonderful thing is when the hand comes back, and all the words of comfort are whispered lovingly and I don’t ever want to let go or be anywhere except where I am right now. And the best part is knowing that even though it was gone, when I called out it came back, and the hand is here again and I am loved and safe and the world is beautiful after all and weren’t we going roller-skating today?
It’s all about Life and Death, and all the other Words with Capital Letters that spring from no source but those Two, like Love and Hate and Sex and Friendship. We’re all Mortal, as in mortality rate-morbid-mortician-mortified-Morte d’Arthur-Morticia-Mortimer (I’d rather Die than be named Mortimer). We’re all Mortal, and dying. We’re Dying slowly and painfully, and all we can do is go through the empty motions of Life so we can pretend we’re not Dying for a little while. But however much we sing to the Sunrise, the Sun always Sets, and Night always comes, and even if a New Day dawns, Yesterday is gone forever. And we can do what feels good now, and we can run as fast as we can and be invulnerable, because our invulnerability arises from the simple fact that we’re already condemned to Die--what else can happen to us? Some say we’re preoccupied with Sex--is it Sex, or is it feeling good long enough to drive away the Darkness for a moment, of practicing the Ritual that can, if we ever allow it to be more than practice and feeling good, at least ensure that the New Day dawns tomorrow even if we’re not here to see it? We’re Youth and Hope and the Future--and we’re already Yesterday, and the World itself is Dying. It’s Dying because People before us were greedy and selfish and unthinking or uncaring, and poisoned our birthright before we ever got a chance to see it pure and clean and right, and it’s all spoiled now. And so, lacking anything better to do, we laugh and dance and grab hold of anything we can that offers some promise of release from the bleakness that is our Prison.
We’re not Children anymore, and at some point we learned that the Hand that is Mama or Daddy or Nana or Whoever is just part of another condemned Mortal like ourselves, who has all the faults and shortcomings of any other Mortal, and is destined to Die or Divorce or simply go away and Disappear forever and never come back, no matter how long or loudly we call out, and all we can do is laugh more loudly and pretend like it doesn’t really matter.
It’s pretty pathetic when you think about it: the glass is lovely and delicate, but it’s Grandma’s good China and we can’t ever use it and however pretty it is, it will always be empty and useless. But lovely and delicate and pale and blue-veined is the way You want It and Us kept, pristine, and so we’ll always be empty and useless, and the red Blood in our blue Veins will tie us to Passions and expressions of our Passions in ways that are no more or less empty and useless than You have decreed.
You say we’re destroying our lives? We say you destroyed them for us when you gave Birth to us, because there is no distinction between Life and Death, and we and you are both going to Die no matter what we do or don’t do. So what if you extend it for a few Minutes or a few Years? You Dance one Song, for two minutes or ten, and then They usher you off the Floor, and you don’t even get to wait around to hear what the Band’s going to play next. So you might as well enjoy it while you can, and laugh as loudly as you can, and try and do as much as is around you, because you won’t wind up any more or less Dead in the long run anyway. But just in case they start to convince you there’s any more to it than that, Dance in black, always in Black, because it’s your own Funeral that’s coming, and the only way you’ll get to Sing and Dance and tell Stories with the People at your Wake is to do it ahead of time and enjoy it.
I can do anything!!! I have hopes and dreams and goals for the future, and I know I will make it there--soon! So much is wrong with this world, very very sadly wrong, but none of it is beyond repair. With all I’ve learned, I can *see* what it is that needs to be changed, and how to go about changing it--and I have the desire and the willpower to work to make it right. Of course I know I can’t do it alone, but there are so many others like me around, and we can work together. We can make the world a better place--*will* make the world a better place! So many options are open, too: If all I wanted were financial success, I’m perfectly poised right now to dive in and make it happen. But something has to be bigger than that--I want to do something that will leave my mark on the world, my name in the history books, something that will make a real difference to society. And I’ve worked hard to make it this far; I know that I *can* do it, because I’ve acquired the skills that will allow me to do it.
When did forever become finite? I remember when summer alone stretched on forever, reaching from the last glorious day of school into the unimaginably distant future through three whole months of freedom . . . and now three months have gone by since I put in that request for a vacation day next spring for Brianna’s wedding, and I haven’t thought twice about it. There was so much I wanted to do--to write, to learn, to try--where has the time gone already? If I continue at this pace, filling my days to the brim without doing those things, when will I ever find time for them? And now Joseph’s starting school again and Christie’s wanting ballet lessons and--I wanted to do all these things with them! When was the last time I nursed my daughter? Which time was it that I took her in my arms, held her to my breast, then set her aside never to perform this action again? Did she nurse herself to sleep peacefully, or leap down full and laughing to play, or pop up to look into my eyes with a milky baby-grin and giggles? I don’t remember--why would I remember that time, when I had then no way to know it would be the last?
These people I love--so much responsibility, so much concern that nothing happen to endanger the beautiful lives I love so much. I work--and don’t mind working--to keep them happy and healthy, to give them what they need, and I long for some way to share every minute with them even while I know I must give each the freedom to grow and learn and try and fail without me. But, while they still don’t mind holding my hand at the zoo, they can have every minute open to them, and gladly, because I know now how precious those minutes are.
My partner--growing, learning too, as much as the children, more beautiful in my eyes now even than in those giddy days of meeting and beginning to love, becoming such a wonderful human being and still willing to stand beside me and love me and encourage me--at least there is this one beloved person who will always be willing to hold my hand at the zoo!
Will the day arrive too soon when we are old and the children are grown, and the world has wound into a state that can not support us? Must I worry not only about those who depend on me today, but on those people who we will become, whose well-being also may depend on what I do now? Conversely, has the day already passed, as has that last nursing, when I can be young and free and irresponsible, even only once in a while? No--I refuse to let go of that, refuse to settle into the pattern of working and not living, refuse to give up my right to enjoy life and to play. My life is my own, but it is finite, and I must make the best use of it that I can, must leave behind a legacy that leaves a better world to my children and my children’s children, in whatever ways I am able to do so. And if there are things I have not done that I wanted to do--I’m not dead yet, and life goes on, and do them I will!
And what will the eyes of the Elder see?<1996>