I walk a lot. I have found that getting outside and walking seems to shake off the negativity. My adventures walking around downtown Providence never cease to amuse me. The people watching in Providence is amazing. This city holds such an interesting smorgasbord of types. I love to watch them interact, and figure out how it is possible that we are really all connected. Sometimes I can even see the connection for a second before it drifts away. Today, my computer at work decided it hated me. Instead of getting upset that I could not send the mass email that I needed to send to about 200 people, I decided to get up, smile and wander the streets for a few minutes.
First I wandered down Westminster Street to the bank. The bells of Grace Church rang noon as Annie and the Beekeepers' "Sad Boy" came over my iPod. It was an interesting combination that brought tears to my eyes. Church bells chiming over such a sad song of dysfunctional love. I've always thought of church bells as a symbol of new beginning. They always make me stop to listen. It is a happy sound to me. To have it juxtaposed against an equally beautiful sadness, stunned me. Church bells chiming midday; a plaintive voice singing.
Who's there? Sad boy.
Keep up crawling up my sheets
Last night
Saying I don't ever wanna go back home.
I'm so alone there.
So sorry for the things I do.
I really wish I could be more like you.
Kiss me, sad boy.
I'll try to make it better.
I won't ever let you down
When you come to me from the streets
I will fix your bleeding knuckles
and I'll chase you all around
this god damn town.
I don't wanna let you go.
Don't squeeze me too hard.
Truth be told, I still know how you break things.
You can see through my disguise
when I shuffle my hands
and I can't keep my eyes from moving
on and off you, sad boy.
Morning's breaking.
You turn to me and tell me
you don't ever wanna feel that way again.
And you're so scared.
And I think I understand you
like I tried so hard but never could before.
You don't wanna let me go.
Don't push me too far.
Truth be told, I still know how you lose things.
I can see through your disguise
when you shuffle your hands
and you can't keep your eyes from moving
up and down me, sad boy.
I don't wanna let you go.
Don't squeeze me to hard.
Truth be told, I still know how you break things
When you're with me, sad boy.
I'm listening to these words, the sad voice, and I'm hearing the bells. Bells that make me think of hope. That I heard coming out of listening President Obama's Inaugural Speech, and made me think "Yes, we can." Listening to that combination of hope and loss, tears came to my eyes. I stopped to look at the steeple. As I stood looking up, the universe slapped me. The breeze picked up snow and carried it to my face. I suddenly had to smile. There is no better feeling to me than a breeze in my face. I didn't mind the snow so much, but it was cold and reminded me to keep walking. I was suddenly thankful Annie's "Silhouette" hadn't been playing or I would have been bawling on the curb. I laughed out loud at the thought. A man in a suit, walking toward me, clearly wishing he'd thought to wear his coat on his lunch run, looked at me with a strange expression and then laughed himself. Ah, yes, universe. I should be spreading positive energy. Thank you for the reminder.
What I find interesting is that when I stop worrying and leave my issues to the universe to fix, I seem to be surrounded by positive energy. I love that feeling. I feel like I tread lighter. I smile more. The cold doesn't bother me so much. People are just people. Instead of looking around me and wondering where all the crazy people on the bus come from, I find that I am one of them. After all, I'm the one smiling for absolutely no reason, and what do I have to smile about? I can see it in the faces. On the other hand, when I'm walking down the street, I seem to emit, not only a positive energy, but an intense sexual energy. I find this bizarre.
This summer, I couldn't walk down the street without a man stopping for directions to a place in front of which he was standing. I couldn't go to the grocery store without someone offering to carry my bags. I had two men try to hit me with their cars to flirt with me. Cat calls become commonplace. Men stopped to watch me walk past. And not just run-of-the-mill men. Beautiful men. Intelligent men. It was disconcerting. I've never been that girl. That energy calmed down, and life was peaceful for several months. Now, it's coming back. I'm not sure what that means. Over the past couple of weeks, it has all been happening again. Boys have asked my friends for introductions. The stopping me for directions has begun again. I'm allowed on buses first and doors are held open for me to pass through. As I was walking down Empire Street, back to my office, a man pulled his car over to the first available spot, called me back, frantically ending a call on his cell phone. I walked over to ask him if he was alright, only to be informed he'd just wanted "to admire my beauty." I informed him that I needed to return to work, and kept walking against a backdrop of Ryan Adams' "Mockingbird" and this man yelling for me to come back, let him give me his card, please take him out because he's new in town. Another man who works on the block and who everytime he sees me tells me to smile, said "I told you you have a beautiful smile." We had a laugh over that, as I kept walking around the corner. I was thinking how this energy could really work for me in my new position . . . "Here's my card," she said in her sexiest voice. HA! And thank you for the commission.
By now I was in my office and ready to face another several hours of soul-crushing sales work. I'm about to begin my first corporate push for "A Raisin in the Sun." I choose to look on the bright side of being forced into a sales position. I will now aquire an entirely new skill set that will make me marketable to development offices. I will meet a new set of people. It's all new. It will be fun. I can do this!
Two hours after I should have left the office, I finally made my way up Washington Street to Kennedy Plaza. I sat on a bench where, according to a friend, I was sure to be shanked, and I began to write to pass the few minutes until my bus arrived. The bus was full, and I had to sit next to a young man who clearly wanted to be alone. Halfway up Hope Street, he started asking me for directions.
When I arrived at the Pawtucket stop, I stepped off the bus and into the cold air. As soon as I crossed the street and began my walk home, one of my absolute favorites, Jeff Buckley's "Grace," came over my iPod. "Grace" is a song that never fails to put a smile on my face and make me grateful I have the gift of being able to hear. "It's my time coming, I'm not afraid to die . . . Oh, drink a bit of wine we both might go tomorrow . . ." The refrain of "Wait in the fire" and the sound of the guitar in this particular song. I'm not educated enough to describe it. I just know it moves me. I was listening to "wait in the fire" as I made my trek through frozen streets. And for some reason, the combination brought to mind Judas frozen in a lake of ice. What made Dante decide that the lowest level of hell was a frozen lake where tears shatter and we can't move? And then I thought of my entire day. Walking, moving, riding, driving, going, and how happy it makes me to be able to move around in the world. I guess that was all the answer I needed.
Tomorrow, I have to drive my car to work. My schedule won't allow the bus. I think I'll park as far away as I can. It's supposed to be a lovely day. I think I'll walk.
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