Anticipation

Anticipation. Blissful anticipation. The feeling once remembered as the night before Christmas. Of waking up every 15 minutes and checking to see if Santa came yet, but alas…we anticipate. It’s the feeling of thinking about something and planning for something and waiting for something and dreaming of something and feeling nervous about something going horribly wrong like in that one nightmare where you slept through it only to watch the bus drive away with you standing on a lonely street corner with a comical look on your face as if your insides had been kicked out. It’s such a good feeling it’s almost painful. And as it approaches, the anticipation heightens…the breathing deepens…the adrenalin rushes through your veins until it entirely consumes you. You can’t focus or function properly because you know…..you, know that in a short time…now a very short time, she will be there. She will be there and when she is everything will be okay. Nothing matters anymore at that point. Nothing but that moment. It is the ultimate in carpe diem, carpe noctem, then carpe diem all over again. There is only the distant worry…the OTHER kind of anticipation. The knowledge that it will end…as all good things do, so they say. And yet even as I know the sadness that will come is but transient, it comes as little consolation as the antibliss of that antiblissful anticipation slowly creeps up on you. Suppression is seemingly one’s only recourse and we must! I must. For I cannot bear to miss a single moment of what I have when I have it because I can remember before when I didn’t have it and I foresee the future when I will have it not once more and I know, as much as anyone can know, the all I can do, as limited as I then seem to be, is live. Live in that moment. Because love wins. It doesn’t always. No. thanks for that by the way. But it can and it should, this I believe I am smart enough to know now as I knew then. It’s just as the child and his love of Santa Clause and Christmas. It isn’t just a love of presents but a love of such a happiness that is experienced by all on such a joyous occasion as Christmas. Similarly it isn’t simply a love of a person, it’s a love of love. That feeling and connection and passion that trumps all other emotions carries with it the ability to love harder and feel stronger and be better than you knew you could. It allows for an interplay between two people that is by all accounts read and experienced absolutely unparalleled in our world and within our human capacity. What am I babbling about? It’s not rhetorical. I don’t entirely know. A cursory look back over the words on this page scream of starving artists rambling to whomever will listen on a some sunny street-corner in SoCal. And yet, I don’t care. Maybe those artists are on to something. Maybe what they lack financially they more than make up for in wisdom and happiness and understanding that many if not all take for granted…what the ancient Greeks would call eudaimonia. But what do I know? I’m just a guy sitting in an office basking in the blissful anticipation that is now filling the room, leaving no space left for anything else, subtly effecting everything it touches until it becomes too much, too much for anyone to handle but it’s okay because at that point, at that exact moment at which one has waited and waited and cannot wait any longer…the wait will be over. The anticipation will be paused, if only momentarily, if only to resume again after a short commercial break. But in the mean time, all will be well.