Something Beautiful

Today has been a rough day. It is one thing to find contentment in waiting, it is quite another to cling to joy in the face of disappointment. I wanted nothing more than to hide today, to sleep, to watch something, to play something, to remain passive as time passed me by. At least today. But that is not the right path.

Forcing myself to emerge from my dungeon of an apartment, I faced the world walking, talking, and breathing, but behind the facade there was only death. I needed to talk to people, to force myself into their community so that I was not alone, to surround myself with them so that I was not surrounded by myself. As I made the rounds to my usual haunts, I don’t think that anyone guessed at my need, guessed that their smiles and conversation wove together to create the lifeline that kept me from falling back into isolation.

The conversations ended, because they all have work to do. I began to play with the Play-Doh in Bob’s office, just working the doh, making shapes and lines, watching them coalesce into something real only to be mushed back into the cup when I was finished. As people left to their meetings, I was left alone, blessedly alone, terrifyingly alone. I began to work the doh in to spheres, and then flatten them out into circles. Once, twice, I don’t know how many I made, I just lost myself in the rhythm. The absence of thought is a curious state to me, but it was such a blessed relief. The entire universe consisted of pinch, roll, smoosh. Pinch, roll, smoosh. Then the circles came together, one layered on top of another, gently pressed together and occasionally flared at the top. A rose began to take shape. It is beautiful.

I have recently noticed a change in myself, and I fear that I am becoming a scholar. Everything is now in terms of thought and ideas; I’m always thinking. But not tonight. Pinch, roll, smoosh. It is good to remove myself from skepticism, from inquisition, from doubt, from mystery, from ambiguity, from “the tough stuff.” At least for one evening. There is something purifying about devoting your entire being to something as simple as Play-Doh. The world washes over you, and for a moment you are left behind, just a man and a rose. For one evening, it’s not about thought, or reading, or debating; it’s not about deconstructing anything. It’s about creating something beautiful.