mechanized

Dried paint scarred hands on the steering wheel, callouses growing every day. Finding it easier to breathe, and understanding that I can feel again. It's almost frightening feeling, but I have you to thank for that. G-d works in mysterious ways, and I've become resigned to that notion and okay with it, too. It's dark outside, long day of doing craftsman work, jobs meant for people with low IQs and no diplomas, but good work. Feels good feeling my muscles ache after working, old sweat crusted at the neck of my shirt. Window cracked, slight bit of air seeping in, faint smell of public transit in the air.

Car up ahead is stuck with its blinker on, wanting to get into the lane that I presently reside in. I tap my brakes, once twice, my car's haggard brake lights, 2/3 of what they should be, winks with two good eyes and one bad at the car behind me. I flash my brights at the idle car, who slowly gets in my lane. No clue who is in this toyota forerunner, but they get in front of me, and flash their emergency lights at me, just once, and it just made me smile, like mechanized smiles and nods. Something out of "Wall-E". Emotion and courtesy poured through rays of light. Just struck me as odd, and nice, and faint, and small, and unique, like this quiet little thing that happened between two cars and two drivers the rest of the world missed as they sped on by.

Life and love and everything summed up in ten seconds of two strangers obeying the law. And now they have gone off to wherever they go to. Home with family, out with friends, alone with dinner. Maybe they are alone, maybe they are not, but still feel like it, but in that brief encounter we interacted. We were humans, not cars.

One of my favorite things to do is to think about the lives of all the people in passing cars, how happy they are (without knowing me, hard to believe I know), what their lives are like, what they think, if they think, do they know love, everything. I am genuinely interested in complete strangers in the simplest of terms, and my overthinking mind gets wrapped up in the quick blurred smiles of children or the arguing on the cellphone mom, and I forget to look where I am going and constantly swim in my lane, slight swerves, gentle motions because of this breeze of lost in a world without me. And I know I am not the only one that does that, so if you see me as you drive by and we know each other, know that I am looking at you, too, and for a moment we are not machines being driven, or windows rolled up to keep everything out, but just two people catching glances and glimpsing into the lives of another person.

Roll the windows down.

Say hello.

G-d is in the rain

If He is, then how come I don't feel as wet as I once did? I can sit outside and watch the water soak through my clothes, feel the spray of rain on my face as I walk, splash through puddles but I can't feel it. What does that mean? Is he so far away now that I am unable to see it again?

If He is in the rain, then what about the oceans? or the ponds or lakes or water underground in caves? Could I just go down to the shore or dig deeper than 6 feet and find Him again? So many questions and somewhere there is a whisper, as it always is. Never a booming voice that I would want, or a mysterious floating hand writing on some wall. No, just a small whisper that sounds like the wind, maybe it is the wind, but it's the faintest thing that keeps me from walking into traffic.

I've got more problems than hairs on my head. I, like most everyone else, is some sort of walking catastrophe loosely bound with old thread and twine, keeping it together to save face, to look okay, to appear fine to passersby, but when alone in this quiet place with haunted wooden floors and tears that seem to have found their way out of my eyes again, I have no mask to wear, no person to impress. Just talking on this like I am someone important, that my words matter to anyone. But I am just lonely, wondering if and when that something special will happen. A friend once told me that G-d answers a prayer by saying "yes, wait, or I have something better". Maybe so. Hope so. Sometimes all you need is to do the hard work of trusting, of putting your faith into something that doesn't make scientific sense, but even that doesn't make much sense either. I am so impatient with my questions. Maybe it's our generation or maybe It's because I just hate waiting. I want answers and I want them now, but maybe it's best that I wait.

And it's hard not to dig. Not for water, but for something, to try and find this or that that would validate how I am, how I feel, what is going on. And the problem with digging is that you are going to get dirty and you might not find the soil you want to find. But I don't know what else to do with all these shovels I have around, gathering dust. So many things seem in vain, chasing the wind, wanting, trying, failing, surviving, breathing, hurting, living, moving, keeping on, don't show your cards, do this, do that, play the game, find someone to date, be happy with yourself, watched pots never boil (yes they do). Am I even ready for anything? Is anyone? Is there a point to get to, or is the point the process? Will we ever be ready? I don't know. But I do know that we are all in the same boats, maybe at different places in the sea, holding on for dear life, and that G-d is in the rain and in the salt spray and in the water that is overtaking our boat. Maybe the best thing to do is drown. Just let go, feel your lungs fill with water. Gurgle, choke, close your eyes, sink to the bottom of the sea. Maybe that's being alive. By being dead, and vice versa.

So I'll let the cold sea swallow me with its indifferent indigo jaws. And I want you to come with me. Lose ourselves to find ourselves, everything is simple, everything is backward. Take a chance. This world feels like it's all crazy, it's all false, it's all a dream, but it's alright. As long as you have someone with you, people in the trenches fighting, you are not alone. And I am not either.

So maybe G-d is in the rain. Or maybe He is in the dirt. Or maybe He is in the trees, hiding behind the leaves and branches. Wherever He is, He is everywhere. I don't know why I feel so alone when that is the truth. Guess it just feels so far away, like 250 miles, or 17,000 miles. But all I have to do is look up, or look down, or look around me.

G-d is everywhere.