Written September 22, 1995/Rewritten September 23, 1995
Sometimes I like to go out to the restaurant on the corner and have a meal there by myself. I like to find a booth by a window and watch clouds sail by on oceans of blue. I like to watch what happens just outside on the street too, because you never know what you might see there. If you think about it, just watching people go by can make you appreciate the little things in life. The most amazing things can happen if you stop and watch.
I had just settled down with a hot cup of tea one day in my booth, when all of the sudden a elderly lady on a bicycle crashed into a little boy carrying a bag of grapefruit, right outside my window. It was a sight to see, grapefruit rolling here and there. A taxi caught one under its tire before it could escape. The whole thing caused quite a commotion. The incident itself was completely unexpected, like lightning on the front of an oncoming storm. The moment, was so sudden and startling that it seemed to stop my heart; An instant later, there was only aftermath.
Incidents like that make me think of what the city has to offer. I doubt I could witness such randomness as easily in the suburbs, and if it could be, I’m not sure that there would be the same appreciation. City incidents should be treasured because of their frequency. In the suburbs, the events are so far and between that they lose the same kind of meaning. Events in the city are chained together so that they occur like the stutter of a machine gun in a combat picture. The rapidity seems to punctuate each day, and elicit a sincere appreciation for life around me.
I’ve been afraid of dying recently. I went to church for the first time in ages and found the experience to be terribly morbid. Don’t get me wrong, it felt good to be there, and I felt very much at peace. That, I think, was the crux of my problem with it. I think the experience felt too good, too much tranquillity, feeling too much at peace. I think that is wrong. It was like resigning yourself to die. The hundreds of candles in the muted light about me seemed to glow with angel song and beckon me onward towards God and death.
Sitting on those hardwood pews I felt caught up with the people praying and worshiping. So many people, myself included look all the time for peace, and solace. Being in that environment, among the pews, the altar, the candles, the crucifix, it made me feel so detached from the outside world. I felt as if I had wandered into the sanctuary of God and, in doing so, had found inner and lasting peace. The sensation was intoxicating; and in its allure, I could not find a single reason to leave.
I did nothing but sit. I felt no boredom or anxiety as I might have at the library or at the park. People came and went and the hours past; I felt full of fervor and abandonment, giddy in the presence of the truth. I closed my eyes and opened my arms waiting to be transported to God and everlasting peace. I’d only felt this way once before:
* * *
The loss of blood had left me light headed and dizzy, but strangely at peace. I felt as if I was about to slip back into a most comfortable dream. My head drooped and I could see the blood already beginning to brown and coagulate around me. Tears clattered from my eyes and cut streams of wetness upon my deadening skin. The tears bespoke remaining life, and I raised a leaden hand to brush them away. My limbs would not respond. The languorous dizziness threatened to overwhelm me, and I could not think of a single reason not to give in.
I raised my eyes to meet God and was blinded instantly.
* * *
My hands felt wetness upon them once more and when I opened my eyes, there was no drying stain upon them. I smiled through my tears and looked at the hundred candles awash in my blurred vision. It is nice to feel such belonging and so easy to give in to such peace, but there is a real world out there that the pews are only an escape from. Churches are morbid. I really believe that. The closeness to God is a lure that is so tempting, that if taken, would only lead me away.
I work in a small publishing firm downtown as a proofreader for a medical journal. It isn’t much, but it allows for a few of the little pleasures of life, including the occasional lunch in a cozy booth. It is such pleasures that demand attention if life is to be worth living. The warmth of the afternoon sun, the tranquil clouds, as they make their way across the sky. The sounds and smells and sights of the city around me. The mishap outside the window. The city really has so much to offer. I doubt the suburbs are quite so exciting.
The woman was miraculously unhurt and the boy suffered only a scrape here or there. The commotion soon passed and the people went on their way. In moments, no one could tell that anything had ever happened. The crushed grapefruit was the only casualty of the day.