Holes

It was one of those almost stiflingly quiet, grey days, the kind that makes the sky look like it has breathing problems. I walked outside with our dog Yara after an exchange of uplifting messages with an old friend from El Salvador from my undergraduate days in Fort Worth, Texas. Yara and I always feed the birds together and she was running alongside me excitedly, barking at the idea of seeing a squirrel or two to chase. My conversation with my friend laid bare some of our mutual sorrows when it comes to family. The idea of holes came to mind. The kind that happen in clothes with excessive use and time. Holes in your heart can make you feel naked, cold, just as they do in worn out clothing. I thought about that for a minute and the visual held. Just when I thought I would get attacked by an unsuspected bout of melancholy at loss and its inevitable regrets, another idea took hold. Holes, not as in gapes, wounds, but holes as in openings, possibilities. When you can't see where you are going, and you can't see a hand before your eyes, tearing a hole in what obstructs your view is not a bad option. It won't be painless, or effortless, but it will lead to other options, other paths, other perspectives. Holes also create a deeper view, bring fresh air, more light, and even make whatever you carry lighter, by the sheer laws of physics. I suddenly felt better. My friend and I discussed various concerns, and it was apparent that he and I each carried our burdens of varying weight, but the holes in our lives looked better somehow, maybe because we had a chance to talk about them, without feeling the need to fix those holes. They were there, but they do look different now to me. Holes. Big, small, round, jagged, just starting or threatening to take the whole item of concern, they are also opportunities, challenges, road indicators.With that new frame of mind, even the sky started losing its constricted look, I heard the happy twitter of the birds who were finding the bread crumbs I had put out for them. I went inside, put on my favorite Rachid Taha CD, and started writing. Like big O's, the holes in my own life seemed like they were dancing to the rai rhythms, like big bubbles, expanding and popping, revealing colour and light, making them sights of hope and resolve.