I don’t have an escape plan, but I heard a seagull’s wings tonight as I sat on the porch reading God’s Debris, drinking vodka and Sprite Zero. It was up there a ways. I don’t know, maybe 75 or 100 feet. And as it passed overhead—with dogs yapping on First Avenue, firecrackers going off all around town, and cars with out of state plates speeding past my house—I heard the sound of smooth feathers against the air and despite all the distractions, I finally felt calm. An evenness of emotion I haven’t experienced in a long time.
I’ve been taking things too seriously. Letting others get under my skin. At a loss with the drama of strangers, family, and friends. And I’ve been too quiet for fear of offending them. No one in particular, mind you, just more or less any of them. I don’t want to be the opinionated asshole that always has something to say. The person that’s trying to push their agenda, give unwanted advice, or believes that their way is the way to be. But I sure am tired of letting people bulldoze along through this life because they believe they’re more important than they are.
Whatever it is that makes that sound—hollow bones and feathers against air—is just as important as anything else that’s happened today, yesterday, or that will happen tomorrow. If tomorrow happens at all. And the closest I can come to an escape plan is trying to look at everything that way.
All of this is important. Has meaning. And when we take the time to wrap our heads around this, we can truly take steps forward. Away from everything we have been taught, everything we have known, and we can begin to see that love and hope and home are everywhere.
I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense. I didn’t really write it for you—a person that’s probably too caught up in being left or right or religious or righteous or just plain full of yourself. For once, I wrote this shit for me. I want my escape plan to be big, all-inclusive, and if you are willing to break apart some of your delusions, I think you may want to come with me.