Dancing in the Rain

A peculiar feeling came over me as I lay in bed this morning.

I wake easily, and I'm usually awake fairly early.  This morning was no exception.  I awoke somewhere around 4:30 or so, but being a weekend I didn't have to get up.  I tried a few various changes in the way I was laying to see if I could get back to sleep.  None worked.  As I lay there, my mind started waking up.  Thoughts started speeding up, and I started thinking about all kinds of things.  It was obvious I was not going to get back to sleep, so I pulled out my ear plugs and put them on the night stand.  I hate ear plugs, but wear them out of necessity.  I can go to sleep at night at the drop of a hat, but when I've been asleep for more than two hours I can wake at the slightest sound.  Wearing earplugs will keep me from waking up when my wife comes to bed, and also help if she gets into a particularly noisy bout of snoring.

Anyway, back to what I was talking about.

When I took my earplugs out, I was immediately in a different place.  Instead of the usual muted hissing from my tinnitus, I was hearing a quiet Sunday morning in a sleeping house, only this time I could hear the rain on the roof, and the water cascading down the downspout.  I sleep wearing nothing, and I enjoy it.  Probably because I was already naked, the thought of going outside in the rain with no clothes on crossed my mind.  That's all it took.  The more I thought about it the more I started thinking how fun it would be to go outside bare and enjoy the rain.  It was still dark, there was almost zero chance of anyone else catching me.  Besides, there was already a towel hanging outside near the hot tub.  Why not?

Suddenly motivated, I slid out of bed and put my robe on.  On the way through the house I turned the heat on, pushed the button on the already-loaded coffee pot, and went to the back door.  I put flip-flops on and stepped through the sliding glass door, closing it slowly.  I stood there under the eaves for a moment, enjoying the sound of raindrops falling around me.  It actually wasn't very cold at all.  I suddenly realized I had bypassed the bathroom in my hurry to experience this private moment.  Goaded into action by the need to pee, I took my robe off and carefully laid it over the firewood rack against the wall, and stepped out onto the deck and into the natural shower, enjoying the naturist feeling that was enveloping me.

The rain sounded harder than it felt, but it felt wonderful as it pelted my bare skin and started cascading down my body.  I leaned my head back, letting it kiss my face.  Cursing my glasses, I removed them so I would leave no place untouched by the rain.  I reached up and wiped the rain all over my face, smearing the cool water and refreshing me.  I put my glasses back on and stepped to the edge of the deck.  Then I remembered the motion light on the garage.  Damn that light!  I have been surprised by that garish light before and was glad I remembered it before it came on this time.  I knew a certain range I could venture fairly safely before triggering it, but I still played it safe and moved slowly.  I was in no hurry anyway.  Just off the deck I stopped.  Again I leaned my head back and enjoyed the rain plastering my face as I wiped my body all over like I was soaping up in nature's shower.  I stepped back up onto the deck and enjoyed the rain for a few minutes more.  I looked over at the sliding door, and there was the cat, watching me, wondering what one of her humans was doing out there in the rain with no covering.  About that time I started to chill and went for the hot tub towel.

I went in to a nice, warm house and the coffee was almost ready to pour.  It was a most excellent beginning to my day.

Okay, I didn't really dance in the rain... Physically anyway.  In my mind, however, I was doing cartwheels.

Violating the Night

The house was silent as I turned off the light and walked to the door. Slowly wrenching the door open, I winced as it complained on squeaky hinges, the outer storm door clicking all the way shut from the suction.

I had violated the stillness of night.

I stepped out into the cold and closed the door as quietly as I could, unknowingly holding my breath.  Fumbling in the dark, my key finally found its target and I turned the lock, hearing the soft clack of the bolt sliding home. Gazing upward, I breathed in the solitude of the stars. I walked out to the driveway, looking upward as I did so. Listening. There was no sound in the world but my own breathing. I stopped before I left the smooth concrete slab that masked the sound of my footsteps. Again looking upward, I let myself float away.

It felt as if the stars were displaying themselves to me--only me. In all the world there was no one else scanning the heavens at that moment. I was the solitary man facing the infinity of the universe. In an apparent greeting, they winked softly at me as I gazed. I relaxed my eyes, almost letting them close, as I took a slow, deep breath of the cold night. I tasted the quiet sweetness of the air as it passed into my body, feeling a slight vertigo as my mind thanked me. I breathed outward, at once both exhaling and emitting a sigh of resignation. I knew I must continue. I stepped off the concrete, resuming the short walk to my car.

Then again I violated the stillness of the night.

My footsteps on the gravel echoed loudly, threatening to wake the sleeping. They were amplified in the still morning, and I apologized silently to the world for daring to disturb the emptiness. I sighed with relief as my footsteps were once again silent when they reached the firmness of the asphalt road. As carefully as I could, I put my key into the door and unlocked the car. Opening the door, I slid onto the seat and started the car. Oddly, I felt no qualms about starting the car--perhaps because I felt safe there, sitting within its confines. The night was cold, however, and I opened the door with my ice scraper in hand, wielding it with heaviness, with the feeling I was on my way to commit a crime. Standing next to my car, I looked up at the stars. They seemed to be watching me, waiting for me to do what they knew I had to do. I looked down and I placed the scraper against the icy smoothness of the windshield and pushed.

Once more I violated the stillness of the night.

The car was already running, humming quietly, but even so the scream that was released by the complaining scraper made me close my eyes and pause momentarily. I winced, expecting every porch light on every house to snap on, their doors to open, and dogs their dogs to start barking. When that thankfully didn't happen, I resumed my task, almost feeling like I was breaking the law and finding myself in a hurry to get it finished and get out of there. I drove away, breathing a sigh of relief.

Behind me, the night was still once again.

The Twin vs. the Solitary Man

I'm not a too much of a believer in things intangible--astrology included, and yet, there is something real about the Gemini astrological sign.  There must be.  How else could I explain the strange polar opposites that occur in so many of my personality traits? Gemini (May 21-June 20) is the sign of the Twins.  So many things in the world can be described by the Gemini opposites.  Left and Right, Yin and Yang, Salt and Pepper, Good and Bad--the comparisons go on and on.  The description of a Gemini on this site is me almost to a tee.  I'm constantly battling two sides of myself. I want to be famous for something, yet, I want distance. Part of me wants to be public, while part of me wants to hide. I want to be in a parade but I want to wear a mask. When I want to be noticed its more like I hope to be noticed. I would be a guy that might clear my throat while pretending to be preoccupied--just so people will notice what I'm doing. It's like a strange inner turmoil going on that never seems to wane.  I have an exhibitionist side and a private side.   Part of me wants everyone to read my blog, and the other part won't tell anyone about it.  I want to be noticed, but I don't want anyone to notice me.  I want everyone to notice me, but I don't want to draw attention to myself.  I want to share things about myself, but I don't want anyone to find out about me.  I am my own enemy.  Sometimes I feel that everyone in the world is watching me.  An hour later, I'm doing or saying something in hopes everyone in the world will watch me. Sometimes the Twins take on the classic, "angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other" scenario, but when that does happen the good side usually wins.  I have certain ethics.

I've always been a clown. I've probably deep down had a desire to be appreciated. I want to be the one that makes a memorable remark, posts a memorable cartoon, or writes a memorable poem. Take my poetry blog for example. Although I may have many things there that I'm very proud of, I usually don't recommend it to anyone. Not any more. I've come to the realization that people generally don't give a damn about poems. I found that out one time when I posted a link to my poems on Facebook. I don't remember exactly what I said in the post, but I purposefully linked the main blog page instead of just the single post in hopes that people might spend some time exploring them all. I thought, "Maybe they'll see that there is something more to me, that I'm not just the glib person I appear to be on the outside." Did that happen? No. I may have gotten a comment and/or a "like" but that's it. Like many people that are proud of their work, I was seeking approval. I just wanted to be able to shrug my shoulders and feign a little, "aw, it was nothin..." While beaming broadly inside. I hoped for some sort of acknowledgment after posting a link to my private writings. Sure, some are whimsical and goofy, but many poured from my heart and soul.

When I get scorned a part of me shuts down. I can't help it. I get quiet and I retreat. The problem with being an adult is that there is no "retreat." I can't just go somewhere when I want to have total quiet without sparking some sort of resentment from my wife. In her mind I would be avoiding her. That would cause the exact opposite to happen. Instead of the solitude I wanted, I would be bombarded with questions and requests that I talk if something is bothering me. I can't seem to get it understood that I can easily sit all day long and never say a word when there is nothing wrong. I'm not hiding, mad, or sick every time I'm quiet and stand-offish. Sometimes I just want to be alone. I crave solitude sometimes. I respect solitude all of the time. During cold, winter mornings that I had to go to work, I actually felt ashamed to spoil the total stillness by scraping my windows.  It was so quiet and serene out there.  There was solitude.  I was the only one in the world.  I wanted to just stand there, taking deep breaths and enjoying the feeling with my eyes closed.  Instead, I literally winced when the first scrape pierced the quiet of the morning.  Some people choose to live their lives by themselves and some are thrust into it unwillingly. For me, I am one of those people that think I would love to live a solitary life, but on my terms. Meaning when I wanted human interaction I would seek it out. There are many times when I'm happy to sit all by myself in a crowded place and observe the variety of people that are scurrying around and going about their business. People watching. It's fun, and it provides me with some social interaction--though not personally. Plus, I can turn it off and leave any time I want.  Maybe I'm just being selfish, or maybe I've just never met anyone that was in tune with me.

Being the solitary person in certain situations has a sort of spiritual reward to me too. I'm not a believer in the bible, but there are times when a feeling of awe overwhelms me. The feeling that I am but a speck in the middle of something huge and grandiose. Sitting on a high hilltop, ocean beach, vast desert, or a scenic cliff--those are the times I get a feeling of deep introspection. I can sit in those places for hours and hours, all alone with my thoughts. If I were not by myself, not only would the quiet be lost, but so would the spiritual feeling. If you look up definitions of spiritual, only part of them have to do with religion. One of the definitions that I'm talking about is this: "having a mind or emotions of a high and delicately refined quality." I'm not saying my mind is either refined or high quality. I'm saying that in certain natural places, conditions, or situations I have the feeling of such.

I have been a source of controversy for years about the fact that I get up two hours before I need to every morning. People can't understand why anyone in their right mind would do such a thing if they didn't have to. You know why? Solitude. For those two hours I own the world. I can be here in my chair at my computer with no distractions, no interruptions, and no expectations. Add to that the fact that my mind is so much clearer and I feel more able to draw from within when I'm trying to write things down. The frustrating part is, lately I've found that I have some of my best ideas, notions, or little "seeds" of inspiration come to me an hour or two before bed. I can't really act on them then. To do so would be a battle of constant interruption with "what are you doing?" or that I'm ignoring or being neglectful. No, instead I try to jot down notes so that I can act on them during my morning "me" time the following day. Sometimes I can remember the train of thought that was behind the idea and sometimes not, but at least I have a chance.