(May 1, 2003)
I was preparing to move for the summer, dismantling and packing my life feverishly into boxes. About halfway through the harrowing process of taking down my computer, I took a break, sitting on the bed in the bright afternoon sunshine and revelling in the light breeze entering through the open window. Something darted across my field of vision - an insect? It rose, dove and twirled about, riding in close to the lonely tower case sitting on a chair as if seeking refuge. I watched it intently, studying its seemingly logical movements, and soon found that I had been deceived; it was a tiny ball of fluff, animated by the wind.
How many times have I been like that dust, merely shamming life as I let outside forces guide me? Complacency makes clever objects of us all, capable of convincing others but never ourselves. There is a rhythm that may be found with the universe, but that is not what I refer to - such harmony is a joyous ease, when everything aligns and things seem to take care of themselves. No, this issue is filled with dissonance, forcing a being into a lifeless, repetitive pattern that creates an illusion of vibrance with nothing but dead materials underneath.
I watched it until it sank too low to catch the breeze and dropped onto the carpet; the guise was ruined, and it became inanimate once more. I rose from my seat, smiling at the world outside, and began a dance of my own, determined never to be a mere shell of activity.