Rain, by Hans Zimmer plays as I think. in the music, I hear small droplets, as a quiet wind moves in the background; light, and curiously kind. Can wind be kind? Yes, I think so. Because if it can be fierce and harsh, it can be kind too.
Lately, I have been listening to All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr; a book that won a Pulitzer Prize for excellence in fiction. I don’t normally read fiction, but I think the blue and yellow color of the book, and the fact that it seems to be plastered all over the internet, drew me in. Now I want to have a daughter and name her Mari-Laure. It is a beautiful name, don’t you think? Rather poetic; simple and yet entirely beautiful.
Surfing Dolphins, by Hans Zimmer is playing now. It is upbeat and makes me think of galloping horses, wild and free, running across the prairie. Endless green prairie, like green sky. Can sky be green? Yes, I think so.
I was showering today and thinking (because showers are the best places to think) about how I build castles. I am so good at building castles. Walls. Fortresses. Encampments. I build because I fear. I build because I guess I haven’t thought about it until now. It is all I know.
But all of a sudden, as I lift my dirt-streaked face and wearily lift up another brick to place on the top of my wall, a hand comes out of nowhere and stops me. The hand is strong but gentle.
“Stop”, says a voice.
The voice goes with the hand. I am too far in my little castle to see whether a face is affixed to the voice or whether it is the voice of a goblin that I am hearing. No one has stopped me before. I have been building for 20 years and counting. I fear, therefore I build. It is my nature.
But someone, some thing has dared to stop me. I timidly bring my brick back down into my little castle and try again, this time, on another side of the wall. Again, the hand. Again, the voice. This time, stronger, louder, but gentle as ever.
“Your building does not protect you,” says the voice. “It only keeps you captive.”