It's raining in LA

It’s raining in LA. My feet hurt. Everyone around me seems annoyed and I have no idea what I want to say. Sometimes it feels like there is just so much to cover. Too much. It’s January. Tenth. Time just keeps marching over my skin like an army of very committed ants, plugging along, doing just exactly what it is here to do, pass. And pass. And pass.

Things are changing, I can feel it. They’re changing all around me.  They’re changing all within me. And yet according to what my eyes see, everything looks exactly the same. But I know it’s not. I know this because like any good spiritualist, well actually like any semi-aware person, well actually like any person who has lived over 20 years, well, actually like any person, I know the only thing that stays the same is how fast and furious things change.

Always evolving, always revolving, always expanding, always contracting. A lifetime of building walls to feel safe, only to realize the one thing that can save me is complete and total demolition of them. I am tired. I am awake. I am sleepy. I am energized. I want to change, all of it. I want to change the world, but please don’t make me change anything I love. Right? It doesn’t quite work like that though. This I also know.

Driving down Wilshire Blvd, I let my windshield wipers stop. My eyes glaze and focus at the same time at the collection of droplets gathering on the thick piece of glass that some machine placed into the front of my car. People used to do that, place glass on the front of my car. It wasn’t always machines. Horses used to be cars. Roads used to be fields. Fields used to be littered with dinosaurs all doing the best they could to co-exist given all the so very many things that were happening.

And here I am two hundred and forty million years later (give or take) sitting in a car, on a road, in a town, in a country, in a world, in a universe, maybe even a multiverse, doing the best I can to co-exist in my world given the so very many things that are happening. And my god, there are so very many things happening. And it is so easy to forget that I am (that we are, that you are) a part of a bigger picture. And it is so easy to forget that it is OK that we don’t have this all figured out yet. Who said we had to anyway? Have it all figured out? Who said it was even ever a possibility in the first place?  

I sit here wondering how long I can leave my windshield wipers off in what Los Angelinos call rain, but is actually drizzle, and I look to the cars around me. Everyone is on their phones, I roll my eyes in total judgement. I look to my own hands to see my iphone resting gently within it. I drop it instantly horrified and ashamed. I notice the raindrops begin to work in tandem with the windshield, no wipers necessary and think about how useless shame and horror are if not tilled for growth. I wonder how many people take advantage of that opportunity and how many don’t?  

I look at the street as it soaks up the water falling from the sky and feel the flow of all of us in our cars, wholly and completely moving with the inertia of our lives. How unconnected can I possibly be in this moment? How unconnected are we as a people? And if we are all so unconnected, how can we possibly be understanding with each other? Cooperative with each other? Gentle? Kind?

Everyone’s got their panties in a bunch about something right now. And some of these things are really big and really heartbreaking. And some of these things are ridiculous and laughable. And all of these things are important to work towards changing as we individually see fit to change them but no change ever comes from standing still. And no change ever comes from ignoring opposition. And no change ever comes from againstness, no real change, no lasting change that doesn’t just ultimately create more againstness and really horribly, laughable, heartbreaking things.

I want to take the pain away from everyone. I want this existential angst that circles in my head to go on vacation. permanently.  I want to tell each and every person on this planet that they are loved. That I love them. That they are ok. That there is nothing wrong with them and that they are inherently lovable in every single way. I want to tell them they are really, truly doing the best they can and it’s ok to relax. it’s ok to laugh, it’s ok to let go of the mask of perfection and having anything figured out. I want to see what would happen if every single person believed this about themselves and each other.

I want the world to see the inherent magnificent beauty that exists in literally every single moment that has and that will ever pass, every single moment that will ever march on in this endless illusion of time.

The car behind me honks. I swear. Despite having just felt the enormous need to connect and allow and embrace my human brothers and sisters, the minute the car honks, I swear. And as redundant as it may seem I know in that moment, that all of this must start with me. I get to see the beauty in this and every single moment. I look up and see that what was once a red light, a beautiful red light, turn green. My windshield is covered in rain and I gently touch the button to trigger the wiper and all of a sudden everything is clear and everything is beautiful. I swear.

There is an older woman on the corner and she is without an umbrella. I can see she is trying to find cover where there is none. Her deep red wool sweater collects dampness like the plastic bag over her tight white curls and she lifts her left foot out of a puddle. I see a young man approach her with an umbrella. His smooth brown skin dry underneath his suit which is tucked into his shoes. He smiles and steps three feet over to be closer to her. She looks to him and relaxes realizing he is sheltering her from the wetness. He walks with her across the street and gives her his umbrella before they part. He carries on, coat over his head and she, dry.

The car behind me honks again. I press on the gas, raise my hand in acknowledgement, and wipe my eyes. As the driver passes my on the left, I bow my head, I hear you, I silently say. Thank you. I silently say. I love you. I silently say and let my car propel forward to it’s destination. It’s raining in LA. My feet hurt.