Being Human
So I did something I NEVER, EVER, EVER do. Me, Type-A, pedal to the medal, juggle 10 balls in the air, coffee-guzzling, people-loving, left-wing, socialist, hippie-zen crazy-mama.
I stayed in bed ALL day.
I told my kids they were not to bother me. And I watched BEING HUMAN on BBC, the marathon, from 6:00 A.M. until the new episode was over at 10:00 p.m. It was positively delicious.
So here's the thing, in the scenes with the werewolf, when he's changing, he is so in tune to every smell, all his senses. And last night, I slept with all my windows wide open, until my room hit about 45 degrees. I woke up, and I could have sworn I was eight again, waking up in my grandparents' summer house, with the floor so cold on my bare feet. The smell of clean, COLD air, and the feel of warm blankets, just transported me to someplace so wonderful, that despite the last few weeks of surgeries and pain and all the rest of it, I was in a place that was all about what makes me human.
And THEN, because I realized on some sensory level it was going going to be a beautiful day, that somehow I was going to go through the day feeling really alive, I decided to spend it writing.
And so . . . that, to me, is my BEING HUMAN day.
What reminds you of the best of being human?
22 comments:
First, thank you for the moment I just spent thinking about being human. It was so refreshing, comforting, full of the stuff of life and love.
Now to describe where I went for that moment...
I'm four years old, at my grandmother's house. It's summer, warm, my tummy is full of peanut butter sandwiches which I can still taste in my mouth. I'm stretched out on my grandmother's bed in nothing but my panties. Grandma is on the bed with me, rubbing my back and singing "The Grandfather's Clock" and "Froggie Went A-Courtin'." Her voice high, sweet, and soothing. The electric fan oscillating from the dresser wafts cool air across me and the breeze outside the open windows blows the curtains over my body bringing with it the smell of apricots and honeysuckle, and then sucks the air back out. The curtains make a tunk sound as they hit the window screen. The sheets are cool and white, the pillow smells faintly of the Ponds Cold Cream my granddad uses on his face at night. My eyes close and I feel perfectly safe, absolutely loved and adored.
When I woke this morning I wanted to go antiquing.
I think I'll run downtown and go later. I feel like puttering around old stuff. Might or might not take a kid with me. I grew up among old things, have a lot of old things now, and sometimes I get a craving...
Running in the evening, listening to the whispering of the forest that's so been so close to me my whole life. Hearing the crunch of rocks beneath my running shoes. Feeling the flush of cool when twilight in fading. Feeling the beat of my heart, the pound of my lungs, both of which were so weak in the past. Being reminded of how much stronger I am now. But it doesn't really feel human to me, it's more like becoming a feral spirit.
I wish these blogs had "Like" buttons under comments.
Starbucks: when I get stuck in my writing, I head to the antique mall. It seems that every piece has a story attached, someone owned it and they had a reason to have it. Somehow walking through the antiques and all the stories loosens up and unsticks my creativity. Have fun!
Johnny: One of my favorite memories is of running barefoot through the woods on an Indian Summer morning. The trees,earth, sky do whisper to you. Loved what you wrote. Thanks for the side trip.
Beth:
God, thank you for sharing. And I echo your comment. I love reading everyone's responses.
Betsy:
LOVE antiques--love junk yards even more, like old-time flea-markety junk yards.
Johnny:
Wow . . . thanks for sharing that. Funny . . . for Valentine's Day, I was given lilies of the valley by my Significant Other. Reason being my grandparents grew it near this stand of pines on their property. They are my favorite flower and scent in the whole world. Forests and pines "speak" to me, and are very evocative to me, too.
Great post, as usual, Erica. :)
My favorite "being human" moment... I was a sophomore in Berkeley, walking down Telegraph Avenue, Oakland side. It was a perfect fall day: sky was clear and sort of Wedgewood blue, and crisp enough to remind me it was my favorite season. And a light wind blew fallen leaves down the street with me with a musical rustle, and everything smelled so clean and cool, and I remember thinking, God, I am so happy to be alive and here and me. It's the incandescent, defining moment of my life -- and weird, since in so many ways it was such a little one.
England has the best version.
Cathy:
A couple of years ago, I had a blog post called Chasing Dawn about my pre-dawn walks with my dogs, and I had one of the moments as sunrise came up over a hill, JUST as a favorite song came on my iPod, on a crisp day, and it was the same feeling, this total transcendent moment, so amazing in a happy-to-be-alive moment. And yet so utterly small and "normal" in a way.
LA:
I watch the American version, too. I like the vampire on the American version better, but that's the only thing I think they do better. The family dynamic on the Brit version is SO much better. LOVE IT!
I've never seen it. Sounds like I better netflix it.
Nice post, E.
Many of us settle for comfortable numbness."Human" can be a bit soul-rattling.
Love this post! Love your blog. :0)
I always feel "human" at the beach. Wind, sand, the sound of the ocean. Just a glimpse of the water through the spaces in hotels that line the streets makes me giddy.
I love the constant sound of the ocean waves.
Belly laughs. Side piercing, cheeks aching, gasping for breath belly laughs. The kind were you wheeze until you stop -- look at your laughing partner -- and start all over again.
The very best of being human is in that feeling. It's a fully connected happiness.
Starbucks:
But get the BBC version, NOT the scyfy version. I think you'll dig it.
s:
I can say sometimes I seek a comfortably numb spot. Life can be a bear.
Sheri:
I love the ocean too. I swear our bodies fall into this rhythm with it, learning to relax . . .
Amy:
At my recent poker game, there was lots of that. At one point, I SWORE I got a hernia from laughing, LOL!
Sheri:
And P.S.--thanks for commenting!!!!
Blog pals . . . Sheri is a writer and a beautiful jewelry designer. I love her pieces!
http://www.etsy.com/shop/RabbitfishJewelry
I am reminded whenever I allow myself to step out onto the edge of my comfort zone and take a step. It is there that every emotion imaginable floods my existence. It is from the simplest experience such as riding a roller coaster, to now writing a novel, with a smorgasbord of little moments in between.
My father once asked my two girls when the moment was they knew they were alive. I don’t think they understood the question; perhaps they are still too young to really understand. Sometimes I think I’m still too young to understand and I’ve done a lot of living. He told me for him; it was at the age of eighteen when he realized what it meant. He was dodging bullets in the Vietnam War, wanting only to survive. I often try to imagine what that experience was like for him, he has only shared a few stories. I know it’s a place he won’t let his mind wander around in for too long. I only know I’ve witnessed all my life a man who appreciates everything, who enjoys absolutely every minute of breathing, who never gets angry….really, who always has a smile on his face and will at any given moment, drop what he is doing to give you whatever you need. I think he is simply a man who at an early age……GOT IT and never forgot! How I strive to be like him, oh how I work at it.
PS: I love your blogs, you make my mind visit such wonderful places. I'm sorry to hear about your health issues, I'll keep you in my prayers and thoughts.
Lisa:
Sometimes I think we don't realize our alive moments until later. I have friends who served in Vietnam, and I taught refugees and boat people from there and Cambodia. Can't even imagine . . . .
Thanks for commenting and for reading!
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