memory

there are rooms.  their shape or location is not important for the metaphor.  it feels as though i walk into a room, and the air in it is crisp, cool and clean.  there are comforting sounds that feel a lot like your parents watching the news in the other room when you are a child.  the light is warm and bright.  the interactions are all so clear and in the room i am thinking to myself, "don't forget this room.  how could you, this is amazing!  this is how life should be lived!  God has blessed you more than most people so enjoy it and let it humble you."  but it seems that i always forget the room.  i even go up to the mantle of the wonderful room where i love everyone and they love me even more.  i stand by the fire place and on the thick log above it sits beautiful stone.  i know it's weight before i pick i up and i know it's value without anyone having to tell me.  i learn and take a peice of it.  some little nugget of wisdom or insight.  i put it in my pocket and tell myself, "feel it's weight tugging on your belt.  you will know if you loose it when you no longer feel the weight."  i have to never loose it because i know that it will only gain value the longer i have it.  if i ever loose it and have to find another, it wont be as special or valuable because it is tarnished by having to be the second or third or fourth.  i turn and begin to slowly and confidently walk while looking around and smiling at everyone i see because we all know that we are... conscious? superior? more able to give grace and pity than to receive it.  we are champions but we don't really care cause we know we will always be.  i walk past a mirror and it flashes an image that even surprises me how beautiful and young and careless it is.  it is the image of the last good summer.  i am in this room and all the pieces fit together.  if they didn't, i have no lack of confidence that i could shape my own pieces and make them work out and probably be better than they would've if anyone else save Christ Himself would have found a fit.  i can feel the power and youth of my own body to an almost overwhelming extent.  at any moment i can break down the walls with my bare hands or walk up to the most beautiful girl in the room and hold her in one arm and my mother in the other without a trace of insincerity or insecurity.  this room, it could be a visit as quick as a thought or as long as childhood.  but, as always, whether you know it or not, no matter how you think you are walking around the room, you are always walking towards the other doorway to the next room.

it doesn't matter when you realize it most of the time becuase you have so much joy and confidence that turning the knob and stepping into the next room is as easy as waking up.  as easy not realizing the moment you fall asleep.  but there is no moment of transfer where you are seeing yourself leave the one room and enter the next.  there is only a next moment that comes faster than instantly.  suddenly you hear a door close behind you.  you turn and wonder if it was you that just walked through the door and shut it.  if it was, you certainly have no idea where you just were.  more accurately, you don't know that you don't remember.  you just are in the next room.  this room is just a room.  walls, ceiling and a floor.  no different than anyother room.  you are pretty sure that this is how most rooms are supposed to look.  so you just keep walking.  from room to room. even though you know this is just how a room is suppoesed to look, you think, "there is a lot more that can happen in this room than just me walking through it."  

but it seems that i always forget the room.  if i remember it, it is not clear.  you would think that if you remember enough about it you could find your way back.  

where the hell is everyone?