Tuesday 22 July 2003

Pic of the day: Yes, that's me. A quote from the old VGA style game Darklands comes to mind: "You feel strangely content, as if a higher power intended them to meet such a fate." Well, I'm not dead yet ... not as I'm writing this, for sure!

Pieces coming together

I left work an hour earlier than I use to, because of recurrent bouts of excessive bowel movements. I think it is called running stool or something, but that's a really weird mental image. Like, galloping chairs? Suffice to say, I did not feel well, and now there was this distinct pain in my lower right side. Yes, right around where some of us still have our appendix. This could not possibly be good. It could possibly be bad. My mood was subdued as I walked through the bustling main street of the tourist city where I work. Then I heard the music.

There were two street musicians from Andes. I have bought several of their CDs through the years. They play the pan flute and some other instruments, and some of their tunes are hauntingly beautiful. (Lately they also play more conventional pop music but with the same instruments.) These tunes were the ones I made into MP3 files so I could integrate them in the game Morrowind instead of some of the original music. Anyway, this was another melody, but still ... when I stopped and listened, a bit away, the music seemed to lift me. This happens from time to time. I let it wash over me. The pain was there still, but a kind of certainty fell over me. "In the end, all the pieces will come together." Even though I don't seem capable of getting my stories finished, I was suddenly convinced that God would do better. That seemed irrational, as God is known to let people die with lots of plot threads unresolved. This is the rule rather than the exception. Or so it looks from the onlooker's point of view. But I just stood there, amazed by the quiet inside and the simple music outside. "In the end, all the pieces will come together." Somehow, I could not doubt it.

Such moments are not destined to stay. And as it slowly faded, I began once again to walk, to the bus station. I take the commuter bus to and from work each workday, but I was some minutes early this time. As I stood there, lost in thought, I heard a voice calling my name.

***

I turned, and there she was, an old friend that I meet all too rarely. She lives in Oslo now, and I do not. She is more than a decade younger than me; yet there was a time when I was really shy around her, because she looks so good. Well, not in a doll-like glamor kind of way, but there is just something about her that pulls on me. An almost physical attraction... OK, perhaps not almost ... and as a holy man I would try to avoid such things. Even though she was a great girl, smart and witty and probably the best match for my sense of humor I have met after I left home. Very dry humor, great irony without malice. (OK, without excessive malice ... heh heh.) You probably can guess if you read me regularly, what kind of humor I like. She makes me smile without even trying. (Well, I assume she doesn't try. She is like that when she is with her family too. It is fun to observe her in action.)

She is not a girl anymore. She is definitely a woman now, in her thirties. Of course, I am also that much older. This, I have found, is a good thing. My body is calmer now, not likely to tug hard at my attention in the presence of an attractive woman. And my brain is still working fine ... well, it was until this heat wave at least! So now, whenever I see her I feel regret that I tried so hard to ignore her in the past, although it was probably the right thing for me back then. And I find myself wishing that we could be friends. But so many things have changed ... there is no excuse for me to meet her now. It's not like I just happen to meet her at the bus station ...

She sat down on the bench, having her luggage with her. I sat down beside her, and we exchanged news. Well, I guess I was mostly asking her. She can always find out about me, you know. I found that I enjoyed her company every bit as much as I ever have. We are not really similar, except for the humor I guess and our wry look at humanity. She loves travel and I love sitting here with my computer, connecting to the world through words rather than my senses. She likes earning money and spending it, I like to minimize my involvement in the world. Yet somehow strangely her earthbound vitality seems refreshing rather than irritating. Of course, I have no idea what she thinks.

She was waiting for the bus to Oslo, I was waiting for the bus home too, although it is only half an hour. It felt so unreal meeting her there by chance. Is there even such a thing as chance? Why had I that strange feeling before? Is this part of it ... of everything coming together? A piece of my past that I dodged before ... is it telling me that I have ignored, evaded something that should have been part of my destiny? Not her, I guess ... that would be a conceited thought. But something of what she represents. Don't we meet people so that we can learn from them?

Then I had to leave for the bus, and I used a natural break in the conversation to say goodbye. I wished I could have taken her hand or something to say farewell, but we were just meeting by chance in a crowded bus station. I went. I did not even notice that the pain was gone, for this time.