Moments feel like something.
They have their own colors.
They fit some place.
Visually we can place them.
But also textually they have a home.
A place to rest in stylized harmony.
The new iPad came out and the keyboard works like an iPhone. The keys make an artificial sound when you touch them. You really can’t feel the keys, they tell you what to feel, how to react. My friend Michael and I have both lost our computers this week and so we both sit here in the library getting stuff done, both of us brainstorming what to do about not having a personal computer. Michael leaned over to me other day and turned his computer screen my way only to reveal his next move, as it relates to his next typing machine. It was a typewriter and I think he is dead serious. My friend Adam and I may live together soon and he asked the question of whether sharing a computer with him would be a cool exercise in communal understanding. The invitation is to step out of my individualized, often numb world, and connect with another human being through sharing.
The texture of life is shared ground. It can only be fully understood in the moments when our stories overlap. When you are held, prayed for, carried a little bit, and loved through something weighty. Life feels like something, it has its own dazzling colors and it is placed. I want to be the kind of person that feels the texture of the day. A person present to others because you understand that only presence, can knit together a real past and shared time. We have only our journeys to offer texture to the landscapes.
