Written, approximately, one year before Hurricane Katrina. I’m reworking it now so it will be much longer, and hopefully better, but this is the original… all those many years ago.
From New Orleans: With Awe And Wonder
by Senator Brett
It hit me like a ton of bricks. Like an unseen predator waiting in the shadows it devoured me the instant it pounced me from behind. And, I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t tear it away from my skin, or my insides.
Imax Theater, New Orleans.
It’s just your average Saturday and I’m caught in the middle row of some random movie about life underneath the surface of the ocean. We had just finished up an artist showcase at the House of Blues and were hanging out with Hot Vegas and enjoying a day of “no work” and “just fun” in the grand city of New Orleans. So, someone had mentioned the Imax and that they had never been to one… so we went.
It’s not supposed to be a big deal. It’s just a slightly better movie, they say. I already know this. I’ve been to Imax theaters before. It’s very, very cool, but nothing to get emotional over.
Except, for some unknown reason, this time it is different. I don’t know exactly what it was. Maybe it was because I love the sound of the ocean. Or, maybe it was because I am getting older, and I hear that is what happens… the older you get the more sentimental you get. I dunno. Or, maybe it was because it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to find me right there, at that exact moment, in that exact place, in my exact state of mind. But, whatever reason… I couldn’t help but cry.
Have you ever been to an Imax theater? It feels like you are right there. You have this sense that you could reach out and touch everything you see. You literally feel as if you are living that moment. And, I think that’s what got me. Sitting there, amid a crowd of strangers, in a small theater, in yet another Southern city, after another long week of constant work and moving… a realization set in.
There was this moment when the camera traveled through a school of Silver Fish and headed towards the sunlight shining above the surface, where the flicker of white light cascading down through the water sparkled and danced, the in-and-out of shadows, the slow dance of fish and sea flowed together like a chorus of song so damn beautiful that it made you heart ache just to listen. And, this feeling came over me. And, it flooded every sense that I had… and it was this…
Our world is so terribly beautiful. All of it. Every last goddamn piece. There is so much Life here. And, all of it is rare, and beautiful, and fragile, and amazingly awesome. And, we can do so many things if we just try. We can build tall cities, create countries, scale towers… put together whole empires. We can laugh. We can cry. We can paint, and write, and sing and dance and breathe. If we try… we can do just about anything. We can use our intellect, our skill, our talent and imagination to create such wonderful places, such beautiful things.
But, the truth is that we can also kill it all. We all have this… this endless possibility, and, so often we use to create things that end Life. We take all the things that God has given us, and we distort them, pervert them and use them at our own peril. We create Beautify… and then crucify it. We make Life… only to end it.
They say that the closest match to human blood is seawater. I think that maybe that’s because Life began there. And, who knows… maybe that is where it will one day end. But, while we are here, why can’t we use or boundless selves to make it a better place?
We are infinite, you and me. All of us. We are Divine. Yet, I don’t know why I can’t live like I believe that.
And, it frustrates the hell out of me.
But, here’s to hope… hope of not only better things, but also of better selves.