The Bell Lap
Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 9:17 pm
I love the bell lap.
Before then, time stretches out ahead to a distant and imprecise point. Enemies and friends slide by, not once but many times, changing their guise as we all respond to the possibilities that emerge while we rush headlong towards the fog of an uncertain future. Sometimes, the others are close enough to smell and to touch, and sometimes, just a shadow, a breath, a flash of colour or a faint, repetitive sound.
In that time there is room to pause, to reflect on what might be. There are invitations and openings, but you are never sure where they might lead. There are questions too, about the others; but they can be minimised or dismissed. Worse are the more persistent questions, about yourself. About your will, your desire, your strength, your cunning, your right place on the stage. About where you might end up.
Then in an instant all that is gone. You can sense it coming. Soon now - soon it must come. He is standing there, and now it is ringing. It is clear and demanding. It rings its terse command, or perhaps, its question.
No time now to reflect. The ghosts and shadows are gone and the others are seen in a colder and clearer way. They are objects, stepping stones towards the goal that is now so near. No time now for questions either. I become animal, knowing myself and seeing others in simple terms. I can eat them: they might eat me. We swim together for a while, watching each other, responding and moving, keeping the right distance, seeking the right place in the school. Closer, tighter, faster.
And now the line is clearly sighted ahead. There is no doubt about what is left to do. One thing. Everything else subordinate to that - the relevant put to use, and the irrelevant not even brought to mind. All energy given to that objective. The past and the future non-existent. Now.
Afterwards; gliding, rolling, feeling the breeze. Feeling my breath, my heart beating. Slowly comes the awareness of others. They are honourable; we are gallant partners in an act that is complete. The bell will not be rung again, but its echo lingers as we approach each other, we talk, we consider in quiet what it is that we have done.
Before then, time stretches out ahead to a distant and imprecise point. Enemies and friends slide by, not once but many times, changing their guise as we all respond to the possibilities that emerge while we rush headlong towards the fog of an uncertain future. Sometimes, the others are close enough to smell and to touch, and sometimes, just a shadow, a breath, a flash of colour or a faint, repetitive sound.
In that time there is room to pause, to reflect on what might be. There are invitations and openings, but you are never sure where they might lead. There are questions too, about the others; but they can be minimised or dismissed. Worse are the more persistent questions, about yourself. About your will, your desire, your strength, your cunning, your right place on the stage. About where you might end up.
Then in an instant all that is gone. You can sense it coming. Soon now - soon it must come. He is standing there, and now it is ringing. It is clear and demanding. It rings its terse command, or perhaps, its question.
No time now to reflect. The ghosts and shadows are gone and the others are seen in a colder and clearer way. They are objects, stepping stones towards the goal that is now so near. No time now for questions either. I become animal, knowing myself and seeing others in simple terms. I can eat them: they might eat me. We swim together for a while, watching each other, responding and moving, keeping the right distance, seeking the right place in the school. Closer, tighter, faster.
And now the line is clearly sighted ahead. There is no doubt about what is left to do. One thing. Everything else subordinate to that - the relevant put to use, and the irrelevant not even brought to mind. All energy given to that objective. The past and the future non-existent. Now.
Afterwards; gliding, rolling, feeling the breeze. Feeling my breath, my heart beating. Slowly comes the awareness of others. They are honourable; we are gallant partners in an act that is complete. The bell will not be rung again, but its echo lingers as we approach each other, we talk, we consider in quiet what it is that we have done.
well written
Keep writing!