Variation on the Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Margaret Atwood, 1939

 

Margaret Atwood imagery has such an ethereal quality. It dances when read and is reminiscent of innermost thoughts, gentle but intensely deep. Reading this piece, I am reminded of the very human desire to know another in the most intimate of ways. As one that craves this knowing in every interaction, I am often left feeling somewhat empty, or more optimistically half full after speaking with another. Always longing to understand what makes one tick, I struggle with balancing my desire for this knowing with the pretense of modern day culture.

 

No matter the venue, the desire to “see” never abates. I am constantly scanning and observing feeling curious, shocked, disappointed and bemused. We are all strange and extraordinary creatures, full of individual quirks and habits. As one that is well familiar with the walls used to disguise a more vulnerable self, I find it fascinating seeing others do the same. Our fragility speaks volumes without a word being said.

 

Recently, I have begun to reach a breaking point of sorts. May it be due to midlife or just introspection, one can never know. I am losing patience with the benign conversations and banter of daily life. The effort that is required of me to avoid absorbing restless energy is exhausting. I feel it as soon as I walk into a room. At times the air is light and playful and at other times extremely heavy. Wouldn’t it be nice to stop the incessant meetings and take the time to have one on one discussion about life, the universe and all things bigger than this world? Instead talk percolates around all issues that divide, a pointless endeavor with little hope for resolution. I have even taken to finding out a bit about each person in an effort to humanize thereby making our interaction more meaningful, gentle and empathetic.

 

Margaret Atwood says it so powerfully with, “I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary.” While this line can easily be placed in the hands of a loving and intimate relationship, what does it mean when superimposed on all other relationships? What is required of us to “see” others? Each relationship thrives on tending and I have come to realize that no matter the tenor of the friendship, much thought and consideration should be given to what motivates another. Are they exhausted from over commitment, struggling with illness, energized by passion or just incessantly trying to prove themselves to a person long gone that lingers on in memory alone. The metaphorical voice over the shoulder perhaps. Whatever the case, each person comes to this world with a unique sensibility; a way of navigating, protecting and sharing that is different from all others. This leaves me feeling responsible to peel back a few of these layers, understand the pressure points and honor them in conversation.

 

I may miss the mark, but that does not keep me from trying again and again. Personal experience is proof that once someone feels a level of comfort, some of the walls will come down. In my case this is true only in instances where I feel a certain vibration from another, recognition of similar. In these instances, I feel capable of breathing the same air, feeling their pain and understanding motivation. It is always collaborative, an intimate sharing of self. We are never on a solo mission; our existence is contingent on relationships of all sorts. Alone we are just that…alone.