Potluck

 

T H I S    W E E K

The Theorist by Bo Fisher

 

Concerning the nature of the upper air

Floating: to Be in between

Please tell me about the nature of the upper air.

Do you know of that moment where you find yourself gasping for breath, but not from exhaustion? Rather, it's of the moment where you cannot breath because you've forgotten how to Be? How to live, to love, to breath. It is of those same moments, where gravity has evaded you. You cannot walk. You are floating. When we cannot weep, nor walk, nor sleep; these are the instants that I live for. They are the most beautiful things to me.

It's hard to say that what I am describing is a natural state of being; evolution tells us otherwise. Still, I'd venture to say that “to be” is an organic verb, when applied to the instances of existing, as just defined. It means to be idle of the mind.

Forgetting is when you aren't the person of your past, nor the person that you anticipate yourself to be. It's not that I look to forget, or cease to think. It's that instant in between that I long for. A gluttonous fiend. 

Living. Loving, Breathing. These are words that we use to define our existence. When they slip away and you become of them, rather than you ascribing to them- that is something to Be for. Mind, it doesn't need to be the product of passion. You need only to float; to taste the air the streams above your line of sight. You might be dancing, or feeling the sounds of a song.

Youth is not an age, it's a byproduct of time. If you believe in time, you risk the potential of rendering yourself useless. If time does not exist, then perhaps you might believe that what is young is simply faith and innocence. It is fearful of something folly and perhaps a little ignorant. Conversely, maturity is introspective and anxious. It is that burst of confidence; that thing you have to justify your means. Again, I say, I live for that lapse in between.

A wilted rose.

Never let me go.

 

Tennae Maki is a weekend writer that works for an architecture firm. She tells herself jokes at her desk; it's an open office.