Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Epidermis and Ice Cream
My head is spinning. Brain on overload. Happy, angry, tense and relieved all at once. How is it possible? Today was a remarkable day where the highs are like a motorcycle ride at 90mph, and the lows are like crashing said motorcycle into a tornado. Except today the crash came first.
At 12:42 this afternoon I had firmly decided my next blog topic. My ears burned crimson as I marched over the footbridge to retrieve my forgotten lunch. "This is going to be good," I fumed. The morning had been challenging, leaving my stomach in knots.
"Why am I so angry?" I asked myself, spitting into the pond. "Relax, you're acting in the flesh," I replied, hoping spirituality would calm me down. Bad move. "What the heck is 'flesh' anyway?" I retorted, spitting harder. "Such a stupid, vague notion!" I shook my head emphatically, confirming any onlooker's suspicions of my schizophrenia.
That's all it took. I was off to the races, my mind whirring to construct antagonistic questions and snarky comments. Religion would take the fall. It was, after all, responsible for brainwashing me like this. This nebulous concept of 'my flesh' was burning a hole in my brain.
Flesh. The explanation for my bad attitude? C'mon! My epidermis, dermis, and subcutaneous tissues? My need for food and water? My insatiable desire for approval? Anything that could possibly fall under the giant umbrella of imperfection? Way to make sure I'm screwed no matter what! This was going to be easy, and it was going to be good.
I was mad. I resented the fact that I'd lived to avoid my flesh, only to discover that I'd been squarely in it all along. Not only that, but I was having serious questions about what was wrong with it. It seemed inextricably tied to my humanity. I felt like Don Quixote fighting windmills. Wasting time and energy on something inanimate and non-aggressive. Working against what would never die because it never lived.
But the moment passed. Leftover pizza makes all things new. I embraced serenity and walked back over the bridge thinking about nothing other than NBA free-agency and where LeBron would play basketball next season.
At 5:06pm I slid into the passenger side of our silver Elantra. I was emotionally fragile again, but I'd have to pull myself together because Danielle looked cute and tonight was date night. She gave me 10 minutes to wash my stress away in the shower, and we hopped back into the car and were off.
To say the night was magical would be only a slight exaggeration. We cracked and ate 3lbs of crab legs at our favorite restaurant, sloshing them in butter and chatting about everything and nothing. Our happy dialogue continued as we walked arm in arm to the car, zipped across town, and arrived at our movie just in time. We held hands and laughed from start to finish. On the way home an ice cream detour evolved into a deep examination of our spiritual misconceptions and an honest State Of Our Union address. It was rejuvenating beyond words.