Last July, while driving through Western Canada through a particularly scenic part of Alberta’s “rolling hills”, I was taken by a sparkling pond and open meadow to the left side of the highway. The car was parked and I explored.
I stepped off the concrete into a cushioned mat of green, with peeping flowers of various colours interspersed with the soft blades. Most of them were probably weeds, but they looked so pretty to me
I walked into the middle of the meadow, until I felt as though I was directly under the sun and lay on the ground – back to the earth, face to the sky- Trees flanked the peaceful space and offered occasional whispers when brushed by the breeze. Birds chirped pleasantly
I suddenly felt as though I had been sucked from my life, and spat into someone else’s – someone happier. A life so beautiful and unsustainable that it hurt. Then I realized that this was my life, just a neglected, atrophied part of it. it was my mind at ease and not another’s. Feeling held and connected in ones own company is a special experience.
Inflated, I basked in the possibility that I had been the only person in the history of the world to have occupied that six feet of untended space. It made the moment vital, and profound. Perhaps I had been the only invited — called to sit, and see, and feel, and live – my space.
This was my life.
© Anthony Gorman 2017