Waiting

I sit and read on a Saturday night, alone.  My eyes gathering in the words of a madman written nearly sixty years ago.  In the background, the Rolling Stones play the soundtrack of my life--also some sixty-odd years.  One of the songs announces that time doesn't wait for us.  As I hear this, I read Kerouac's thoughts as he sits alone in a fire tower on Desolation Peak dreaming of being in the company of others, getting drunk with friends, eating out and bumming around.  Which is nothing more or less than daydreams because he is, as noted, stuck in a fire tower, alone.

I am reminded of military assignments where time seemed to drag and all I could think of was what I would do once I got back to the world.  I know the feeling Jack is describing.  I also know the existential truth that Mick is carrying on about in the background.  We all know these things and COVID has made them all the more cogent.  Being alone has the same effect.  As we are forced to deal with our temporal restraints and physical restrictions, we accordingly come face-to-face with the limits of our mental creations and physical distractions.  Wherever we are is where we are doing whatever it is we are doing, even if it's nothing.  The option to engage in distractions and entertainment is not on the table.

As I have noted before, I don't think this is all bad.  This is an opportunity for growth, perhaps a blessing even.  We just need to read between the lines and breathe.