Tell Me What It Means

In a way, it’s fitting that my mom is almost blind and I am slowly going almost blind–though I’ve been told that, if I start to see a sparkling ring around a black spot, I have to rush to the closest emergency room or the whole affair won’t be so slow nor so almost–because there are days when I just cannot bear to see anything any more.

They’re not days of great terribleness.  Those days tend to be days you cannot help but look, so to be sure you have it.  But days like this, of ordinary things that pass through your hands, onto the next person, and you, through some failure of imagination, cannot be imposed upon to give a shit long enough to figure out what it means or if it applies to you.

I just want to put my hands on something cold and rough and immobile.  Maybe a tree or a large, flat stone, with two quick gouges from a skilled man’s hammer in it.

I too often gather things near me and arrange them and rearrange them like so many cards on a fortune teller’s table, looking for signs and omens and direction.  Point me, point me the right way, oh, great and mysterious Universe.

But quickly.

I wanted so much for this whole house thing to work out.  I wanted to believe that I had assurances of the mysterious kind that, if I opened myself up to it now, that the way would be clear.

I clearly was not getting the message.  Assuming there was a message.

I’m tired of looking for messages, at messages, making messages for others.

Maybe this means… Maybe that means…

It doesn’t mean anything.

Like a dog’s belly doesn’t mean anything.  Like a shard of glass by the side of the road doesn’t mean anything.  Is, is, is.

I don’t know what I’m trying to get at here.

I have a wisteria I got from Beth, that I wanted to plant in the yard of a new house.  It’s been so long since I got that wisteria that it has died, sitting there in that small pot.  But then, it sprouted a new sprig.

And I want to say that I feel like that wisteria.

But I’m tired of metaphors.

I like you.

That’s what I know.  That’s what I’m sure about.  And it doesn’t mean anything.

It just is what it is for its own sake.

That works for me.

5 thoughts on “Tell Me What It Means

  1. It’s very human to want to find meaning in all things, even in patterns of inanimate object, even in patterns of events. That’s because part of our hard-wiring is the ability to perceive patterns, and we value that ability and want it to be important. But, since this is something we all do regardless of whether or not the meaning is really there, the meanings we find tell us a lot more about ourselves than they do about What Things Mean. And the fact that you keep finding positive meanings, meanings that encourage you to be sure that you will find the right house, that you can live the right life in — that’s a very good fact. It suggests that you’re optimistic, which is always a plus. But it also suggests that you know how important the right house is, and that you’re not going to settle for junk. That’s not a metaphor.

    Oh, and I like you, too. But I’m not sure about Mack.

  2. I think nm’s comment is spot on. If I can expand on it some: I think it’s the fact that we ARE so adept at finding patterns that allows to to find often time accurate meaning in random things. Our subconscious picks up on patterns in our lives that we’re not conciously aware of and that let’s us predict our futures with at least a limited degree of accuracy, provided we don’t clutter out that info with the ramblings of our consious mind. That’s why we find meaning in things. Because when we allow our conscious minds to focus on something that is “meaningless” it gives our subconscious a chance to push that information in front of us.

    AND I like you too.

  3. There was something I watched or read at some point about babies and how they start very early to read facial clues prior to being able to speak, understand or comprehend what we are saying to them.

    As well, there was something else that crossed my path fairly recently that related how women are much more sensitive and pick up on non-verbal clues to pick a mate or decipher what another person is telling us.

    It’s awfully reassuring to read what you just wrote, about looking for signs and meanings in the world… sometimes I feel like I’m the only one searching for a rainbow or at least something positive as reinforcement when the negative gets a little too deep in my life. And those are the times when I hear Mick in my ear “…and if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed…”

    I had a conversation with someone in my work life recently and he got off on this tangent and was talking about this and that and the subject of buying a condo came up and how he’s going to buy it and it costs this insane amount of money because it’s in one of the nicer condos that downtown has to offer. And I just kind of went somewhere else in my mind. This wasn’t a place of jealousy, mind you – but a place of “Wow, this guy will never truly understand and appreciate what it means to own a home because of how easy it comes to him” — and that’s when I kind of felt fortunate. That one day, when the opportunity arises and life smiles on me and I’m able to afford a home of my own, I’ll know that my hard work afforded me that place. Like the jobs I’ve had in my life, I didn’t rely on who my parents knew or who my friends were to get the things I have in my life. My hard work and the good product I put out begat more jobs and that’s how I built a successful business.

    Whether you ever own a home or not, you’re a very rich individual. You have countless people who are putting out goodwill and good vibes for you — and that, my dear Aunt B, is something that money cannot buy.

    p.s. I like you too. And I’ll pass on more wisteria should it die, but you know you can’t kill that stuff

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