Sunlight Through Window Shades

11/1/23

Redlands, CA

I dreamt about a day

Where no one had anything to do

And no one had anything to say

We just say next to the windows

And let it slip away

I liked my brain this morning. I slept long and hard, and I had pleasant dreams. The feeling I had when I woke up, lying in my car, warm, sunlight peaking through careful blinds, was that of belonging. As if I were just asleep in my room, in a big house where all of my friends lived, and I could stay in my warm bed as long as I wanted, but whenever I decided to get out, I would go downstairs and see someone I loved, and who loved me, and we would talk about nothing and everything.

The dream I had just awoken from was very much like that. I sat around in a lodge with several of my old coworkers, looking out on a misty mountain evening, as my friend described to us the types of shoes the girl he loves would wear.

Back in the car, a light beam shown brightly onto a section of spray foam I installed, casting shadows and reflections. It reminded me of sunlight peaking into a shallow cave, reflecting on the uneven sandstone walls and filling the space with a warm orange glow. The world is full of wonder, I thought, one must only know where to look.

I did get up, eventually, due in part to the smell of body odor in my exposed armpits, and crawled over to the door, craning my neck. I sat there, putting on socks that I love, followed by pants that I love, followed by shoes that I love. To have the privilege of wearing clothes that you have an intimate relationship with is one of the deepest joys.

I glanced up at the cowboy hat sitting on my dash, but instead of a necessary item it looked more like a relic of a time long past, a time when I sought out adventures for myself. Now, still in my fantasy, I was more of a guide, helping others to find their own adventures.

Then I opened the door, and stepped out, into the real world. A world not entirely bad, by any means. The sun was still low and cast long shadows off the trees across the park grass. The air was cool enough that I noticed a welcome difference between the shaded parts and the warm patches of sun. I decided to keep my phone off for as long as I could, despite the deadlines I had later that day, and the single errand I had to run between them. I feared that if I were to turn on the device, it would steal away some of the magic I had stumbled into.

Last night I went to sleep thinking about people. I woke up thinking about people, but in a much different way. This morning I thought about the people I loved, and things I would want to remind them of, if I were to send a letter in their direction. And how I would very much like to do just that.

But last night I thought about people. Other people. People I didn’t know. Understandably, in large part, because of the fact that I was surrounded by them, until I found my way back to this park. Unknowingly, I had happened to park in a location near downtown Redlands that became quite lively in the evening for the festivities of Halloween, something that I had not expected given it being a Tuesday. In addition, my phone offered me access to a great many other people, who’s attention I sought out with as much effort as possible.

Ultimately, I stumbled upon the greatest error that the phone can produce. The thought that my life wasn’t exciting at all, compared to the excitement I was seeing in another peoples choice of social media postings. At the time, the only way I could think around this was to avoid the thought completely.

But this morning it occurred to me. If you wish to enjoy your life, you must start by not doing any of the things that you think will make your life more enjoyable. Or rather, the things that people have told you will make your life more enjoyable. (Aside from me, of course). And for fear that you will take this thought too literally, I mean simply that spending time on your phone is counteractive to your joy.

Now, I could speak at great lengths about the errors of social media and how to counteract them, to achieve the indented purpose more efficiently, but I won’t, at least not at this time. Instead, I will simply say that life is full of adventure. And I mean entirely. Wonder, love, mystery, danger. And the only thing that will make you think otherwise is the information presented to you by your phone.

I did not pry open my laptop this morning to drive home an invitation to reject the comfort of your phone. I don’t care about the phone enough to give it the satisfaction of being the focus of so much of my written thoughts.

I did, however, pry open my laptop this morning to express one sentiment. Not even for you, but for me. This is my journal after all. Which is this; I wish someday to wake up each morning knowing that I am needed, and at the very least wanted, by those in my close proximity. And, in return, surround myself only with those who I care about deeply.