Watching the Wheels
I watched a lovely little movie last night,
Amelie, the French film which garnered much
acclaim last year. It dealt with a theme that has
always been close to my heart: stopping to smell
the roses. "Watching the wheels go round and
round," as John Lennon put it. Taking notice
of—no, appreciating—the little
things in life: the way that tree waves in the
wind, the smell of your lover's hair, the sound of
a faraway airplane on a summer day. God, as they
say, is in the details.
Sometimes, when I find myself in a public place
deeply submerged in thought, I rouse myself and
look at all the people around me. Instead of seeing
them as a bunch of people just going about their
business, I try to picture them as separate
individuals, each with a unique life. What are they
thinking about? Where are they going? What are
their goals? I imagine the great interconnected web
of relationships at whose center I sit: family and
close friends near the center, acquaintances
further out, and those whom I've lost touch with
out at the edges. Then I look at all the people
around me, visualizing a vast web around each one,
many of them overlapping with one another. I think
of all that I've accomplished and all I have yet to
do, and I see these myriad people, each one
striving to be, to do, to have something of
meaning. I can't help but feel a sense of wonder
when I have such moments.
Most of you know me as a quiet person. While
it's true I'm shy, perhaps somewhat lacking in
social skills, much of my diffidence stems from
this fascination with watching, observing, drinking
in what goes on around me. I suppose it's the
writer's instinct within me, to observe rather than
to participate. That's where my love of traveling
comes from too: seeing new places is an endless
smorgasbord of new sensations, new observations,
new experiences.
So next time you see me lost in thought,
seemingly preoccupied, don't be concerned: I'm
doing fine, watching
shadows on the wall.
©2003 Michael
Strickland ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
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