I was cleaning my little corner of the world today. I got to thinking about this thing we call space and how we define it and make our own. At times it can seem oppressive and then it can feel so empty and vacuous.
I cleaned my 981 sq. ft. that for the moment, according to current societal rules, belongs to me by way of the bank allowing me to purchase it.
I scrubbed my deck down and thought of how big one of the holly bushes is getting. It crossed my mind to perhaps check to see if someone in the area collects pine cones for arts and craft projects because I have pine tree that is very generous in this regard. It seems a shame that I am always tossing them in the trash.
I poked about cleaning and thinking of how being in a solitary space can still be a little frightening and then I wondered why.
An old song came on and I hummed the tune and sang the lyrics off-key. Dancing with mop in hand I performed a little Cha Cha Cha.
Smiling I wondered ‘Am I sexy yet?’
And as I finished my domestic duties I wondered if I had been around 200 years previous, would I have done these chores?
Then I wondered how I would do them 200 years down the road.
In truth, I don’t know how anytime period would be re-enacted other than the one I am currently living in.
Yet, we study our past. Experts who have studied all things human will tell us why a man found frozen in the mountains for ten thousand years was likely there. They will tell us what he ate, how old he was when he died and what the current fashions were. (I hear buckskin & fur was really big back in the day)
I wondered though as I watched the iceman’s story, had he loved? Why was he on such a lonely quest trekking through the mountains on his own? Was he scared? Did he have family? Was someone waiting for him? Did they wonder what happened to him? At night did they cry for him, pray for him?
Say what you will, inherently we humans, regardless of our history, feel the need to leave our mark; to let the world know we existed.
And we feel….deeply.
Thoughts of a movie ‘Cave of Forgotten Dreams’ comes to mind. I recall the moment in the film where we bear witness to a wall of handprints. The participants were likely the artists of the fantastical art work covering the walls of the cave. They likely made the prints by covering their hands in red ochre and pressing the palms against the stone wall.
“I was here.” the message drifted from the movie screen. “33,000 years ago I walked this world. It was mine. I mattered.”
That is what this one image said to me. I still get goosebumps thinking about this particular documentary. It touched me so deeply.
The passion and beauty displayed in their art…the need to tell the story and finally the compulsion to let us know who they were. I felt a connection so strong – one that reached out across the spans of time and reached in touching the core of my humanness.
And I realized we are not so different.
Ten thousand years from now will there be a expert on human behavior that will come across my scratching’s? Will they read and interpret my writings?
Will they put together a profile on who they think I might have been? Will there be any evidence as to what I may have looked like? Would that even matter?
And will someone see this mention of me, of my writing? And will they inherently feel a connection to me? Will they wonder if I loved? Will they wonder what I felt?
The river is running low today. I stopped for a late lunch. I need to pick up a few groceries then I will head home. I need to finish up the taxes, perhaps do a bit more editing and start the final read through.
And as I finish this up I offer this as my handprint, my acknowledgement to the universe.
“Today, I was here.”