The Workermonkey

Soccer Mom

# posted by Brancibeer @ 8/09/2006 08:12:00 PM

Okay. I've been going through this "stage" lately. You know what I’m talking about. A time in your life where you’re off on your own thing for a while. Growing an outward branch from your steady trunk. A time where something pushes you to change things up a bit. Whether that something is an experience, person, or yourself. It’s about experimenting. Changing. Evolving new personalities. Evolving new fears... Fuck, it’s like someone slashed down your meds, because shit just aint cutting it anymore.

Life could be defined as one stage within multiple stages happening one and in each other. Try and model that Ron.

Reflecting on personal experience, when I tend to have a stage it seems to lean toward a spiritual side. My mind grows philosophical, my senses grow perceptive. I do things like yoga and meditation. I eat healthy. I read meaningful books. I focus and analyze. I get 'in tune'. Some call it weird. I call it interesting and sometimes amazing.

Don't get me wrong now. Those are the good times; the hi-lights. There’s bad too- but that's a story for another time. Tonight I wanted to make note of an experience I’ve had in this state. I ordered one of those meaningful books the other day- a few passages were read in my yoga class and really struck a cord. Such power, such passion, such insight. After class I asked the instructor what the book was. She told me, and that night I ordered in without researching. The passage was good, the mood was right, and my mind was receptive. I'm totally buying it.

The book came last night in the mail. "Excellent" I thought, "I need a good book to read". Later that night I casually opened the package and took out the book. "Looks pretty good...uh huh....yup....hey......what's this......a bookmark......" At first I thought it was cool to be getting a free bookmark. I bought the book used off of Half.com, which means it came from any Joe or Mary out there in the USA. Cool that they would throw in a bookmark. As I actually read it, my face tweaked, my eyes squinted, and my soul shook. "What the..."

Mothers hold their children's hands for a while... their hearts forever

"Fuck. Have I... Did I.... Am I...... Fuck…". I suddenly realized that the previous owner was probably a later aged hampered mom going through some kind of mid-life crisis. I saw her holding this bookmark. I saw her eyes. Tearing at times, gazing with desperation, looking for hope. I saw into her life. Yearning for something like a Christian longs for a bible. She was in a stage too. She was struggling. I saw getting older, heartaches, regrets, kids moved and busy, stuck in a job, stuck in a life, searching, needing, health issues, problems, stress, problems, sadness, loneliness, isolation, troubles, emotions, pain. I felt it too. I felt her needing help. Needing to cope, express, and release. She was growing by resistance. Deeper. The depth that only rigid experience can hollow. This book was where she reached. Sometime during it all- she at least tried this book. I felt her searching for an answer. The same answer I was seeking.

People are the same. We are never alone and never will be. There are forces that connect time and age, feelings and mind, distance and experience, me and you.

What this means, how this is, I still do not know. But I certainly will continue to seek an answer. I only hope that this woman found hers.

I originally intended this post to be more humorous. I was going to poke fun at myself by explaining how I had just bought a book that some 45 year old soccer mom once bought for her troubled self. I was going to laugh at myself and call it pathetically funny that this soccer mom and I were feeling the same thing (being that I am a 25 year old man). I was going to muse and talk of its ridiculousness. But somewhere in its writing…things changed.

The Workermonkey

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Soccer Mom

# posted by Brancibeer @ 8/09/2006 08:12:00 PM

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