Something about the words in a song reminds me of moments from the past and echoes of a future. This time it isn’t Johnny with June but some might suggest a similar conversation.
Can’t decide what the most important parts are or which most distinguishes itself in my head so I pick a section and listen to it again trying to determine if that memory is the driving force.
I, I can remember
(I remember)
Standing by the wall
(By the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads
(Over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
(Nothing could fall)And the shame, was on the other side
Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever
Then we could be heroes just for one dayHeroes- David Bowie
Can’t decide if a live version of the original is what pushes me or a cover, so I listen to both and think.
Emails about body shops interrupt my train of thought pushing a wistful smile and a dose of reality upon me. One day the big issue with the vehicle is the dirt from muddy roads and the next is the damaged caused by an errant driver.
There is a mix inside the melon of memories and ideas about how sitting on a couch holding hands while celebrating birthdays is similar to the union of man fixing machine.
Some will ask how you compare that notebook to some greasy hands working with equipment to take damaged metal and reshape it and I’ll smile.
Smile because I can provide the comparison about taking what is old and repurposing it so that it fits the new. Because what was in the past cannot always come forward without adapting to the present.
No matter what you say or intend the unbinding promises we make come along for the ride from then to now. Sometimes they are easy to manage because you know what happened once is impossible now but sometimes they aren’t.
Sometimes if you float up into space and take a 96,000 foot review you see your perspective has been limited by things you could not see nor recognize from your place on earth.
Maybe the way you do it is to focus not on forever but to be heroes just for one day. Maybe you open the furnace door knowing that the flames that burn will only burn brighter because of the increase in oxygen.
Where We Walk
The high school art teacher provides a brief rundown of her 28 years of teaching experience and how she applies it to an Introduction to Art and I get lost in the moment.
Something about the explanation of art and the various types, theories and ideas catches me and I nod my head because her description of what makes art and an artist fits me.
Might not use water colors, pottery or other brushes that the Da Vinci, Picasso or other Pollock would consider tools of the trade but I do create.
This place you visit is where I keep my palette and where I fling my paint. Sometimes there are broad brush strokes that are used to paint a picture inside your head and sometimes they are more precise.
Something about it makes me think of the beach and how deep footprints in the sand are never permanent nor long lasting. They are a snapshot of a moment in time that will undoubtedly disappear.
For an instant the world knows we exist and allows us to interact and engage with others and then the moment is gone and it is as if we never were there.
It is a humbling thought and maybe that is why becoming a hero for just one day touches me. Maybe it is all part of why I pay less attention to social constructs than I once did.
Because our time is limited and what we don’t start today either has to be viewed as unimportant or one less minute we get to work on living the way we wish with the sort of fulfillment we wish for.
One day might be all we get and all we have. We never do know until we do and then we hope that we took advantage of what we could and appreciated what we had.
