I look around the museum and I see faces. So many faces and bodies and clothes and shoes. We look at the same art, the same painting, at the same moment in time. I am sharing this moment with someone, a stranger, but the moment is not really shared, because we will each be moved in a different way by the art. We don’t speak, but I want to thank him for sharing the moment with me. I want to shout out to him: nobody belongs here more than you.
We pass by each other on the street, in the metro: ipod in, heads down. We try not to touch or bump, even in a crowded train car at rush hour. This concept seems insane to me: touching is what makes us feel human. When someone bumps me on the train and quickly and sincerely apologizes I want to tell her that it’s okay, really; that nobody belongs here more than you.
The theatre is dark and emotion is overflowing onstage. A cell phone rings. This sound is not a part of the script. Sometimes, it can be selfish to think that nobody belongs here more than you.
To connect with another human, through an act of compassion or a bout of laughter or sharing a secret or a kiss, feels like the universe stops spinning and for that moment, it’s just you and him, you and him. And then the universe is jolted back to reality, and everything gushes forward, moving so quickly to catch up. You walk away from that moment where you were frozen, and try to piece what happened back together. Your heart races and your knees are weak. You realize that everything you said or didn’t say was right. But you forgot to say how much he matters. You forgot to tell him, “Nobody belongs here more than you.”
I think about the movie Sliding Doors. It tells the parallel stories of a young woman who misses her train and what her life looks like, versus what her life would look like if she got on the train. It makes me think about how every person we interact with is shaping our future interactions. So even if it’s only clear in hindsight, everything happens for a reason: how would I have gotten here if it weren’t for you? It adds an entirely new dimension to the true statement that nobody belongs here more than you.
A circle of good friends sits around a table filled with good food and memories had and to be made. One friend breaks down into unhappiness, a devolution of self and increase of fear. The other friends extend hands and hugs. Hearts overflow into mouths. They tell their friend to remember, nobody belongs here more than you.
Can you imagine what it must feel like, to hear those words? In a world of more than six billion people to know that you matter and your presence an exact moment is meaningful and influential must be an incredible feeling, a feeling we don’t experience enough. Isn’t that all people want in the end, anyway, to be validated and loved? Isn’t that all anyone wants to hear, that “nobody belongs here more than you?”
We pass by each other on the street, in the metro: ipod in, heads down. We try not to touch or bump, even in a crowded train car at rush hour. This concept seems insane to me: touching is what makes us feel human. When someone bumps me on the train and quickly and sincerely apologizes I want to tell her that it’s okay, really; that nobody belongs here more than you.
The theatre is dark and emotion is overflowing onstage. A cell phone rings. This sound is not a part of the script. Sometimes, it can be selfish to think that nobody belongs here more than you.
To connect with another human, through an act of compassion or a bout of laughter or sharing a secret or a kiss, feels like the universe stops spinning and for that moment, it’s just you and him, you and him. And then the universe is jolted back to reality, and everything gushes forward, moving so quickly to catch up. You walk away from that moment where you were frozen, and try to piece what happened back together. Your heart races and your knees are weak. You realize that everything you said or didn’t say was right. But you forgot to say how much he matters. You forgot to tell him, “Nobody belongs here more than you.”
I think about the movie Sliding Doors. It tells the parallel stories of a young woman who misses her train and what her life looks like, versus what her life would look like if she got on the train. It makes me think about how every person we interact with is shaping our future interactions. So even if it’s only clear in hindsight, everything happens for a reason: how would I have gotten here if it weren’t for you? It adds an entirely new dimension to the true statement that nobody belongs here more than you.
A circle of good friends sits around a table filled with good food and memories had and to be made. One friend breaks down into unhappiness, a devolution of self and increase of fear. The other friends extend hands and hugs. Hearts overflow into mouths. They tell their friend to remember, nobody belongs here more than you.
Can you imagine what it must feel like, to hear those words? In a world of more than six billion people to know that you matter and your presence an exact moment is meaningful and influential must be an incredible feeling, a feeling we don’t experience enough. Isn’t that all people want in the end, anyway, to be validated and loved? Isn’t that all anyone wants to hear, that “nobody belongs here more than you?”
1 comments:
This is incredibly beautiful, but then again, you emmanate beauty so I shouldn't be surprised.
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