The Lights Are Bright, But They Always Are: An Exercise in Waxed-Floor Religion

Tonight my faith in love was restored. Opened. Of all the idiotic places in the world, it happened in a fucking bowling alley. I don't know how to explain this spiritual experience that happened during an early evening, midweek spontaneous outing with someone I haven't hung out with in a while, but, it happened.  It may have been the soundtrack.  It may have been my family's historical relationship to the sport. It may have been the beautiful stranger who complimented my first bowl of a particular frame (9 pins), then stayed to compliment me again when I picked up a spare.

(insert the sound of a last pin being hit, here.  it is something between a click and a clunk.)

That's the thing that is something like love and life:  Nine pins go flying in every direction.  It's chaos.  Then: There is a calm.  There is a clean up.  It takes a steady hand to aim for what you want.  And it's the falling of that last pin- that evasive and slender pin- that is the actual cause of celebration.

Steady, steady.



Tomorrow holds something quite unexpected for me:

Let's see what falls.


(pause)


If you ever doubt what you're doing, just pay attention to what your heart says. If you know it will disappoint people, shed that as a reason against doing it. Be still. Be steady. Be forever with an aim that is, above everything, unapologetic.


be well; be loved,

-k.

(image: by Brendan Shea via Tumblr. Although I can't remember which Tumblr account, the artist's work can be found at BrandanShea95 dot com)