Gain your angel eyes. It is your soul right to learn such things along your way. There is no losing angel eyes, only gaining dusty lens for eyes.
There will be places that have always felt permanent to you suddenly become a pit stop within a blurt of moments. The illusion of reality: it is a weave of clouds that always form themselves around you on a constant basis. This weave is very malleable and breathable, reality often stiffens rock hard when you let your thought swarm like panicky pigs before an angry, cackling farmer with a loaded rifle in hand. Naturally, that happens a lot considering the run of things we experience everyday. Not only the “run of things” but also how we are brought up and trained to think.
“We have to wake up early, so you don’t miss your bus.”
“You are sitting in here until you finish writing your paragraph.”
“You cannot play outside unless you fold your hands and ask properly to be excused.”
“Line up or you will miss the bus and go on a trip to the principal’s office.”
“Well, you gotta be on time for a lot of things in order to bring food to the table.”
Whatever happened to raising your own food and working with your neighbors?
You get the drift. There are so many commands that fill our heads as the principles of thinking develop along with our thriving, clear bodies. This is conditioning, only a mere part of the web we often get stuck in. Here’s some fresh air on watching the mind unlatch itself.
So, I grab a 16 ounce carmelado, a type of latte from my school’s half-ass fair trade coffee station. With sunshine and peace of taking uninterrupted thoughtful breaths atop the trunk of my car in mindful wait, I couldn’t help but smile inside out. Greeting all my passersby with my usual slight nod and small but affirmative smile, I whisk out of the well-lit building as quickly as possible.
My beige enough buick lesabre grows larger in appearance as I nearly float on my feet towards it. Within a very small fraction of a minute, I rest my seating bone on the trunk. I take the position of an Americanized half-lotus laying my carmelado down between myself and my new painting purse. If I begin to describe my “painting purse”, it would just carry me on to a different purpose than the ladybug phenomenon. Anyway, I was already taking non-attentive sips of my carmelado as my inner smile sang onto my face alongside admiring the crisp clouds. I was on about my fifth very non-attentive sip when I felt a small dot of gently hard and smoothly round bit on my mouth almost inviting itself in. Suddenly, my attention whirled to that small dot on my lower lip. Reactively, I thrusted some air from my lungs through my mouth with the dire intention of removing the dot that tasted just like dirt, earth, soil from my lower lip. Of course, I have tasted dirt, earth, soil. I say having tasted it is all a part of growing up. So, as I actively thrusted that air from my mouth, the word “ladybug” immediately adhered to my conscious mind. I realized it could not have been anything but a ladybug! It must have reached the concrete ground under my car. Upon my realization, I toppled off my car as if it was on blasting fire and started scanning the extremely speckled blacktop for the supposed ladybug. As I was about to give up and think of my actions as vainly dumb, there was the ladybug lying on the very vast sprawl of blacktop! Right then and there I understood nothing was in vain except for exaggerated speech.
Stephanie Gasco makes stories with the moving clouds.