This rather short animation spoke to me deeply. Communicating well is a passion of mine, bordering on obsession. Thank you to Taylor Mali for crafting such a beautiful commentary, and Ronnie Bruce for the striking animation to go with it.
Archive for March, 2010
Flashes of Innocence
2010 -
03.03
There wasn’t a reason for her to look at him – he hadn’t moved or made any noise. She did look, though, and was momentarily stricken with his eyelashes. Not something one usually notices on strangers, really.
He had his eyes closed, listening to some generic rap song turned up way too loud on his headphones. No doubt he’d normally be instantly judged as a troublemaker or a gang member, but in that instant all she could see was how young he was. Those thick eyelashes resting on cheeks still plump with baby fat…just a kid, trying to act like something resembling an adult. She automatically thought of all the times she’d cooed over adorable babies in that same state, and he was irrevocably imbued with that sweet innocence.
He got up and walked away a moment later, complete with the typical swagger of an arrogant young man…but the innocence on his face stuck with her until he disappeared from sight.
Slow
2010 -
03.01
There are times when all it takes is a slowly drawn breath to make the world slow down. Everything seems to float, gently moving along its way at a fraction of its normal pace, and in the process the world gets brighter – at times painfully so.
Those are the moments where I lose myself in the endless beauty of mundane life – the purple flowers nestled in patchy grass by the sidewalk on my walk home from work, the swirled rust patterns on a fence, the iridescent feathers of the birds hanging out by the train tracks.
The train holds so many of those moments for me, especially in the mornings. The day hasn’t had a chance to get all hectic yet, and my mind is still mostly uncluttered. Crossing bridges seems to be a regular trigger, especially when I’m standing by the window. The trees are so close, unreachable through the plexiglass, yet I can sometimes feel the wind on my face and the rustling of the leaves.
There’s a road by the river that’s crumbling because the dirt beneath it is being washed away, and every time I see it I get a jarring pang – part devastation at the painful-looking crack in the cement, part joy and awe at the power of nature in the face of all our technology.
Watching the news and reading the papers can be a intense experience in the wake of a ‘natural disaster’. I feel for those whose entire lives have been uprooted, all belongings destroyed, and for those who have died – yet underneath that empathy is a celebration of the cycle that continues. New life comes from death and destruction, and the beauty and balance of it makes me ache with joy sometimes. When we take too much, Mother Nature will take it back in some form, and we can’t stop her.
