Day One: Anatomy of Pain

01/05/06: Cincinnati, OH to Lubbock, TX


(and yeah, I had to pinch myself when I was watching the sunrise this morning)

In chapter one of the novel One Hundred Years of Solitude there is a story of a man who ventures out from his isolated village in search of the greatest scientific invention in the world. After an august journey of several years the man and his son meet a traveling band of gypsies who, for a modest price, offer them a chance to see something they promise to be wildly unique and exotic. The father pays the sum of admission and with his son they go to view what the father calls, “The greatest invention of our time.” When his son touches the perplexing object he immediately recoils in pain, crying out, “It’s boiling!”

What is this alien object, this great invention, this boiling mass? Ice. The father and son discover ice for the first time.

What interests me is the son’s reaction. When the sensation of touching the ice sends pain spiraling through his fingers and arms he instantly recognizes the pain, but he fails to properly identify it correctly. That’s kind of how I feel these days; things are certainly difficult and I feel certain kinds of pain, but I don’t know if I can correctly identify it, much less narrow it down to one specific type.

For example, what do you call:
-Physical exhaustion (no sleep last night, already aware I’ll be lucky to get more than four hours tonight)
-Migraine
-Missing family and friends
-General anxiety
-Homesickness
-Restlessness
-The whole “I miss my girlfriend” more than I can describe thing
-Feeling like you’re the lead role in a bad Polanski film and you keep missing your cue, flubbing your lines

It’s a twisted culmination that leaves me at once bored to tears while tapping my foot in anxious expectation. Pain is such an interesting thing-each time we feel it we react to it as though we’ve never felt it before. What a phenomenon this is, and it applies to pain both of a physical and emotional nature. However, it seems clear that this phenomenon occurs not without reason: Without our continually reborn aversion to pain we’d kill ourselves, possibly even each other. There are so many things in this world that I do not understand, but I know that these phenomenon have a purpose, creating a harmonious balance in the external world as well as our internal souls.

Where am I going with all of this?

I know not. All I know is that this next year will hold many moments of experience and happiness, growth and self-discovery, but if I’m really honest with myself I must admit that I sense it will hold just as many hardships and trials. But these tribulations hold within them an inherent sense of purpose, a struggle that does not desert but rather leads, a colorful process of becoming.

At least that’s how I see things these days. It will be a struggle to live in and for the moment over these next months, because I feel as though my heart is elsewhere, with someone else, while my mind wanders ahead to a time and place I feel I am meant to be. This is, I feel, not such a bad thing. After all, despite the wisdom and truth that can be found in the ideal of living in the present are we not always looking ahead, wanting to become more, become better, become the person we were meant to be? Perhaps this is only possible in death, upon return to our creator, when we are truly restored to our original purpose and form. But that time is a far horizon, stretching well beyond my own landscapes.

So in this interval we must remain, living and loving, stepping forward and at times back, standing and falling, and with any luck some progress is made. In pieces it’s happiness and solemnity, freedom and captivity, good and evil; in it’s whole life is a rich tapestry of the little things, the ones we love, the good we creates, but mostly, the delicate balance that always shows us how to feel pleasure and pain.







Dinner: Yikes!


Ever seen 200 peoples luggage at once?