Nobody said it was easy

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (screenshot)
keep art alive ~ film by Michel Gondry

"Tell me you love me,
come back and haunt me;
oh, what a rush to the start.

Runnin' in circles,
chasing our tails;
comin' back as we are."

The Scientist (live) :: Coldplay
The Scientist (live) :: Aimee Mann
The Scientist (live) :: Johnette Napolitano

At the start of something between two people, the kind of start that may, or may not, turn into something more, there is a bit of undefined magic around. It is all chemistry and emotions, the air thick with possibility, curiosity, and desire. There are all these unanswered questions, this clean slate between, and the buzz of tension dancing across the surfaces of skin, the flutter of each blink, and the flow of words shared. All you want is to know more.

It always seems so much easier at the start.

Later there will be arguments over everything, and nothing in particular. There will be un-returned phone conversations, misunderstandings, and the near inevitable realization that no two people are ever really perfect for each other - that that was just a dream created to end movies with, and to delight (or warn) little girls in the form of bedtime stories, and costumed princess marketing ploys.
The end, when it comes, it may seem so much easier than anything that came before.

And we will find ourselves in living rooms, crowded bars, and in the passenger seat of our friends' cars wondering how we got here. Our friends will tell us all that rehearsed script of comfort, we all do it. And, we know it is meant to heal each other and repair the shards of a battered self-esteem, don't we? We will take this assurance, even if we don't quite believe it, and decide we deserved better. We will order another drink, light another cigarette, dye our hair some adolescent shade, and we will go on.

They say to never look back, to never regret, to never wish for a second chance.

So, we do our best to erase, to fast-forward, to look to the next chapter - and towards the next start. We tell each other that we are fine. We smile pretty and try to work ourselves into another introduction, and beginning, with somebody new.

Are we all just some kind of science experiment? Is it all just a treadmill of sorts that we run on? A non-scientific rat maze that we find ourselves traversing, time and time again? Do we just close our eyes and jump in, not noticing the same pitfalls, the repeated turns, and the eventual exit sign?

What would happen if we took the backdoor first, and started from the end? What if we walked in reverse sometimes? What if we kicked a few walls down on our way, navigating a few new paths, together? What if we took the time to look again at something, or someone, we thought we already knew? Or, what if we did not follow the story at all, and just wrote our own?

What would that start look like? And that end?

"This is it, Joel. it's going to be gone soon." ~ Clementine
"I know." ~ Joel
"What do we do?" ~ Clementine
"Enjoy it." ~ Joel

~ Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

It speaks of dreams and heartaches

"On the Road" (found photograph)
keep art alive ~ artist unknown

"They say that I am crazy,
my life wasting on this road,
that time will find my dreams,
scared or dead and cold.

But I heard there is a light,
drawing me to reach an end,
and when I reach there,
I'll turn back
and you and I can begin again."

2oo More Miles (live) ~ Ryan Adams, Cowboy Junkies, Natalie Merchant & Vic Chestnutt

I was born with the soul of a gypsy, passed on by my Grandfather before me, and who knows who else that wandered soulfully, and restlessly, before him. My dreams are filled with movement, fluid and changeable, with winding roads and endless bodies of water and spacious skies surrounding me.

If it were just me I would get lost more often, run, disappear, meander through the streets of new cities, leaving my shadow marks in the form of stamped wish you were here postcards, collected matchbooks, and the clang of a tip left behind for the counter top cup of coffee.

But I stay, I persist, and part of me likes the comforts of familiarity, even if I've yet to find anywhere that truly feels like home. My heart, it clings too, trying to hang on for dear life to something, someone, some shred of hope and trust and belief in the existance of love.

But love is like a map, folded and unfolded again and again, you can rely on it, you can ignore it, you can believe in its every twist and turn - or you can let it fly right out the window. Sooner or later, though, you might find your way back to it, and wonder if you can begin again.