Portraits in a Human World

II. Waiting

In work, in expecting a train or for the microwave, we find ourselves in periods of waiting. It is an open period in which one confronts an experience of "nothing." Often hardly enough time to be taken seriously into consideration, a wait is a slight stillness while our minds and bodies remain poised, anticipating what we are ready to be doing.
Should the stillness continue to stretch, the energy of our anticipation builds but has no outlet. Here we realize boredom and begin groping for some meaningful activity. Here, many waits are broken when we grasp a way to move out of it.
But some waits endure, either when no meaningful activities are found, when we cannot rouse ourselves to find one, or when we are required to remain, for some occupation or purpose, expectantly unoccupied. In such cases, the wait can seem excruciating. Without structure or direction, our thoughts are left to fling themselves about in our heads, spiraling and climaxing, torturing us. It is as if activity is a cage to hold the wild animals that are our minds. The cage is suddenly removed in periods of waiting and we are left to fight it out with the freed creature.
These fights can be agonizing and complicated. We come face to face with ourselves. But, ultimately, if the wait is long enough, even the throws of this conflict can fall away. We are left with a silence, a pure stillness from which we can observe. Time seems to settle so that instead of, in retrospect, noticing that it has passed, we can feel its process: a constant, seamless cycle, like sunlight, caressing the skin.

IV. Rainwater

When it rains, a washed melancholy descends upon the human condition. Many love the rain, when time's hot, festering energy receives a great rinsing.
Across roads and roofs, a gravely rattle descends. Water rushes; dripping, drizzling down drainpipes, gurgling up from sewers, through streets and gutters, there is a transportation of stagnant filth, a disruption of debris, a vast movement.
Our makeup runs. Dampened curls hang and ironed hairdos frizz up. Patent leather shoes are damaged and watermarked. All that has been carefully placed is subject to the running wash.
The air is depressed.
The water in our own bodies, in our eyeducts and sweat glands begins to run. Musty underarms and salty upper lips meld with the moisture.