I made my
New Year's Resolution early. I've promised myself that I won't
smoke indoors anymore. I've been going out on the
patio to
puff for about two and a half weeks now, and I find the
experience dramatically different.
I smoke
less, yet
savor smoking more. It takes more
effort to
light one up when you've got to do it outside. It could be
cold, or
raining, or
windy, and you really have to
think about how much you
need that
cigarette when you don't give yourself the
luxury of a convenient indoor
ashtray.
Today, however, the day was
none of those things. As I stood on the patio,
smoking, I stared up at the clear, crisp
winter sky. So blue, so
sharp. Only in the winter in
paradise does the sky attain such a quality of ... of
honesty. There's nothing there but the sky itself. No
contrails, no
smog up to visit from
LA ... not even a cloud mars
the brutal honesty of the sky. There's just the sky and the hard
diamond of the sun, glinting and
glaring into me.
It
hurts to look at it right now. So I look down at my
feet, watching
ash swirl around in the gentle
breeze. I'm standing in the
shadow of the monster
satellite dish next door.
Caught in it,
impaled by a symbol of
humanity, I realize that I'm afraid to
look up beyond the shadow; afraid to turn my eyes back to the
sky and the
sun. I'm scared to be honest with the sky, afraid to be honest with
myself.
I
crossed the line from
motivator to
manipulator, and attained a deep and disturbing
cynicism as a result. It's hard for me to trust people; I no longer
understand what
moves them, I only understand that
I can make them move.
It's a
terrible gift,
empathy. It's so
easy to take
understanding of others and
twist it into
personal gain. I felt lucky to have such a gift, told myself I'd never
abuse it. But in a flash,
a personal, defining moment, I did just that.
Life hasn't been the same since.
Now, caught between
sky and shadow, between
empathy and ennui, I wonder if it's too late. To ...
unpervert this gift I have. Become a
motivator again. Reclaim all that I was
proud of, yet not forget this
lesson.
I don't know if I can. I don't know if I
should.
Until I do, I'll
remember being right here, completely
balanced, utterly
caught between sky and shadow.