Monday, October 19, 2009

Of Benches



Of Benches
Of Benches.
Moments after walking out of that building, that profoundly sterile brown building, you realize what you had just left. You stepped through the glass door littered with hundreds of different visible fingerprints, and don’t look back. You stepped out from the tedious, repetitive off-white walls that constantly engulf you. Stepped away from countless humans that wander thought-less through the monstrous hallways, and stepped from the depth less artwork hanging on those awful walls. The November breeze carried an extra sharpness today, sharp enough to wake the unconscious.
As your take your normal path down a very straight and well-paved sidewalk to your vehicle, you notice a bench sitting just to the right of your path. You double take, furrow your brows and squint your eyes because you have neglected to notice this bench for years. This bench seems to be dropped from a painting, perfectly placed between natural landmarks. The colors work astoundingly against the autumn hues. As you walk closer to this mysterious bench, you realize how long this bench has actually been here. No metal at all, completely made of knotty cedar wood. Upon even closer inspection the bench seems rather uncomfortable, and maybe even a little damp. Regardless you decided to indulge in your experience and bask in that unusually sharp November air. You sit. Instantly taking notice that this bench is in fact rather uncomfortable. Rubbing your hands across either side of where you sit, an engraving catches your fingers attention. There is a distinct heart with two sets of initials. You struggle to decipher these, maybe a C and J? They are worn from years and years of Mother Nature’s harsh but imperative elements. A couple of minutes pass and you glance back and rub your fingers over that heart once more. Instant memories. Memories of the first girl you loved, how it felt to be completely worry free. Feeling the anxiety of never telling the real one you loved how you felt, and regretting it everyday. Then feeling sadness for the woman you don’t really love but are with because you feared you would never find anyone else. Thoughts about the young couple that were giggling on this same bench you sit. Craving away with no worries or apprehension. Thinking about where they are today, still together? Apart? Alive? You take note of the blissful silence that surrounds you when sitting on this bench. One noise that catches you off-guard is the sound of your own beating heart, which is an awaking experience in its own. You start too wonder how such an incredible machine can feel such pain. You shake your head to regain self-control from the rather interesting experience that this bench just granted you.
You glance up. Breathe deep and again fall victim to this bench’s power. This time to the picturesque scene that goes unnoticed in the shadow of one of man’s monstrous buildings. Directly in front of you see the single most beautiful tree you have ever seen. Perfectly symmetrical, this tree stands out among its predecessors in the background. The entire scene seems to be drawn from scratch and painted in the most prestigious of art studious. Trees overflowing with the brightest yellows and the most extravagant autumn red you will ever see. Your mind refuses to believe that you have walked by this serene scene everyday for the past seven years. You start to doubt your beliefs that these trees grew here by chance, over time, because something as breath taking as this scene must have been put here. You close your eyes and shake your head once again, trying to escape this nostalgic state that this bench has once again put you in. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glance of a couple walking slowly on the crooked sidewalk that lay about 20 feet from your bench. You rub your fingers over the heart once more. You think about this young couple holding hands smiling and looking right into each other’s eyes. You debate dispensing your wisdom to the young man, your wisdom that you have learned from experience, not too screw it up, and tell her how you feel; no wisdom was dispensed. You shake your head once more.
Standing up from this bench you decide to go out and see what else this realm of benches has to offer you. You set off to the West towards the bustling city, following the couple that you had just witnessed moments ago. While walking you soon realize the affect that the bench had on you. Your ability to notice your surroundings seem to slowly fade, they fade into your normal egoistic and unaware state of mind. As you arrive into the chaos of the downtown area you notice again a bench. This bench happens to be a little different. Made completely of concrete, the sides and backing look perfectly suited to seat a human. You sit. The bench more conformable than the last, yet not as inviting. This boring stone colored bench placed between a garbage can and a bus stop. Your wandering mind takes a second to become comfortable and then relapses into the same happenings that occurred on the other bench. You look off into the distance and take note of everything possible. This bench seems different, different in the fact that it lack elegance, order, everything that the previous bench thrived in. This bench had something the other lacked. This bench was placed in a particular area where hundreds of human beings could be inspected at once. You come to the conclusion that this area is much like your office that you had just left. Alike in the way that these humans scurry around as fast as they can completely unaware of anything or anyone they pass. Most have heads buried into their blackberry or some other electronic device and completely unaware that you are sitting a couple of feet watching them. You notice people’s faces, most stone cold. There are a few that you make powerful eye contact with, these people are walking with their heads held high and respond to you with a slight smile.
You start to realize the power of these benches. The power invested in these benches, the whole world to slow for occupant, its gives you the ability to sit and actually understand the beauty and grace of everything around you. You soon realize that these people you are watching was once you; this was you not only a couple of hours ago. This was you, nose deep in your phone running through your day scared to death that your deadline wont be reached, unaware of the absolute bliss all around you at all times. You start to again look at the people, you take many mental notes, as the whole world is slower. You conclude at the end of this sitting, that people gather in groups, groups seem to dress and act the same. These groups seem very exclusive, they are not very accepting to others different from them nor other groups. You take note of a few that seem to look all around, seem to be aware of everything. The longer you sit the more you understand that you need to change, you no longer want to be a mindless wander looking straight at the ground, but a fully aware human. There seems to be some irony occurring with this situation, the uncomfortable tight-knotted cedar bench gives you the warm and optimistic feeling. While the comfortable concreted bench makes you doubt human nature as a whole.
Walking away from that bench you have a very uneasy feeling, an uneasy feeling about everything. You can feel yourself slip into the non-thinking numb-minded person that you started with. Then that sharp November air takes on more strike at your face, you shake your head and realize you are right back to where you began your journey, right by that rusted, tight-knotted, old damp bench, looking into the forever garden of yellows, reds and oranges. Your circular journey as brought you back to where you started. You sit. You take one last look at this picturesque scene, and then you close your eyes and sit back for a second. You reflect on the fact that you took a ten-minute journey that seemed to take a lifetime. You realize what it really means to sit down and take a closer look into everything happening around you. It is amazing the life lessons learned from bench, the most unlikely of teachers. You stand up to leave this new teacher of yours, walking away you glance behind you to see one more of the frazzled human beings sitting down into that ugly, damp cedar bench hoping for a break. You respond with a slight smile, realizing that the bench will keep on giving. Realizing that you are one of few to receive this lesson. You turn your head and continue on your unplanned journey with your eyes up and taking notes on everything you have missed before.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

"our life is what our thoughts make it."
-Marcus Aurelius

Heather said...

Josh, where the hell do pull this from??

Mr. Ayers said...

Good to see you're still around on here from time to time. Nice post.

Unknown said...

Benches RRRRROCCKKKKKKKK, baby!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, baby!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!
Poifect for my 500+ mile trek
in exotic Seventh-Heaven!!!!!
Wanna???
Gonna???
Take your time, bro...
yet, dont take forever:
1-outta-1 bites-the-dust, pal.

'the more you shall honor Me,
the more I shall bless you'
-the Infant Jesus of Prague

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