“Enlightenment”
Here I am, sitting at the same desk I have been for 9 years. Here I am, using the same phone, talking about the same thing over and over and over again. Here I am, saying “See you tomorrow!” to the same front desk lady, who’s still knitting that blanket she started in 2015.
This is my life.
I never knew it would come to this. I never knew that I would be meandering out of a blank grey building at 4:57 p.m. just to try to beat traffic by 5:07. I never knew I would be one of those people who goes to bed promptly at 9 p.m. because she knows she has to be functional by 7:00 a.m. How would I have known? No one ever told me life was so monotonous. If life were a sound, it would sound like that one guy, who does the Clear Eyes commercials, Ben Something.
People always say, “There’s always retirement!” as if it’s actually a comforting thought, as if they actually think they’ll get there. People don’t seem to retire these days. Retirement really means death. Why would I want to look forward to nothingness? What’s the point in living if all we have to focus on is retiring? No one seems to be able to answer these questions.
I just want to find something to live for. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
I’m finally home in my dreary apartment. Naturally, I go through my usual routine.
Take the too-tight bra off.
Feed my cat, Peanut.
Make a tuna sandwich.
Wash off my cheap make-up.
Climb into the shower so I can sing into the hairbrush.
Lay my clothes out for the next day.
Climb into bed and get lost in the social media posts for the day.
Oh, look. Suzy got engaged and Sloane is having another baby.
That one couple is still fighting, I guess.
That was a cute dog photo.
Did he really just say that?
It’s comforting to scroll through absent mindedness. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in the vast emptiness that is life. Of course, the thumping from the music across the hall proves I’m not alone. That’s right! It’s Wednesday. Every Wednesday, this group of eclectic people show up laughing loudly, carrying beer and smelling like marijuana. How do I get invited into that group? Don’t they work tomorrow? What are they doing that’s so different? I don’t come home laughing like a hyena. What are they so happy about? They must be happy about how comfortable those clothes are. Where do you even get clothes like that? India? Thank you, people in room 444, for giving me the melodic thumping of electronic music to fall asleep to. At least I know I can dance in my dreams. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll fly to India. Ha! What a life that would be.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Oh shut up alarm clock, I’m getting up. I lean forward, stretching my arms in the air while letting out a huge yawn. I open up my purple curtain to see gray skies. “Looks like a storm is brewing, Peanut.”. I get up to go pour a cup of coffee, but I see it never brewed. In fact, my stove clock is blinking zeroes. Great. The power went out last night. I’ll call the landlord later, I have to get ready for work.
I shower in the dark, but at least the water is warm. I brush my hair and teeth while I’m parading around, trying to feed the cat and gather my things. I really wish I had coffee. I grab my makeup bag so i can get ready in the gym at my work. As I’m feeding the cat, I hear a loud thud against my door. I figure it’s those party animals finally leaving. To live a life without a care, how nice that must be.
I gather my things, dropping pens as I sloppily carry everything in one hand, unlocking my door. I go down the dirty, dungy four flights of stairs only to find my car with two flat tires. Instantly, my heart sinks. Oh no. What am I going to do? I have to be at work in thirty minutes! I have to make it by bus. I call my boss to let her know the circumstances and that I’ll be late.She spouts off some remarks of calling sooner, and I can tell she’s rushed to go to a meeting. Luckily, that was a short call.
I run to the bus stop, trying to catch my breath due to my anxiety. There are about 10 people waiting. I ask about the schedule, and the lady with the baby says it should be coming around in about 20 minutes. Well, there’s nothing I can do, so I just sit and wait and watch the happenings of 10th and Broadson.
It’s really starting to rain now, and I left my umbrella on the counter, of course. I’m not going to have any time getting ready at work. I’m going to look like a soggy dog. Hopefully that cute guy at work won’t be there. I’m watching the business open up across the street. I love that the baker gives the stray dog it’s leftovers from the day prior. You can tell he’s done it before. The dog has been sitting there for 12 minutes. Lucky dog.
It’s really starting to pour now. Those of us without umbrellas try to huddle closely together under the small glass box. Finally the bus comes around the corner and the bodies waiting move eagerly towards the sidewalk.
As I step up into the bus, I notice there is only one seat that isn’t being used. I go sit in the window seat, and watch as people hurriedly try to make it to the bus.
I recognize one girl skipping her way to the bus line. She showed up at the door, soaking wet, bruised, and covered in glitter She had the biggest smile on her face. She loads up, and stares me straight in the eyes, as if she’s peering into my soul. She comes right over to me, sits down and says, “Hi, I’m Anastasia. We are going to be friends, now.”
I keep eye contact, just stunned at her forwardness. She blinks a few times and says,
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me your name, New Friend?” smacking her bubble gum.
I couldn’t stop staring at all the glitter on her face. Her eyes were bright, and full of life. Her lips were shiny, like she put on that gloss from high school. Her shirt was torn, and full of neon paint. Her hair may as well have been dreaded, it was so messy. Her pants were dirty, dusty, Princess Jasmine pants.
“I’m Lydia.” I stammer.
Now I remember where I’ve seen her. She’s one of the hippies that goes to the Wednesday parties across the hall. I should ask her where she got those pants.
“Nice to meet you, Lydia. Are you doing okay? You look really worried.”
“I’m alright, thanks. I’m just late for work. Ugh.”
“I hate it when that happens.” she replies, bewitchingly smiling.
No she doesn’t. She doesn’t know what being late to a job you hate feels like.
“What do you do for work?” I asked her.
“I dog sit.” she replies, as her eyes watch a fly buzzing around.
Dog sitter?
“Oh, that must be interesting.”
How does she make a living? That can’t be her only job. I realize I look bewildered. I hope she didn’t see that. I look down at my watch and I realize it’s been 30 minutes already. Shit. I’m late for work. I bet they are just stacking reports on my desk like they don’t even care if I’m there or not.
“Are you going to work, now? To dog sit?”
“No, I’m on my way to Enlightenment.”
Doesn’t that sound entertaining.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a music festival.”
Of course it is. I nod like I know what she’s talking about. I can just imagine it. Hippies everywhere, talking about love and light, and flowers and sunshine. Music beating, people dancing. I wonder how many hugs are given. I bet it’s colorful there. I wonder if they have lasers. I can just see the fields of rainbows and butterflies, now.
“Well, this is my stop. You comin’?” she says.
I sit there staring up at her, as she gets ready to leave. Blips and blurs run across my mind of Kathleen knitting her stupid blanket. I can smell the musty walls of that dreadful building. I can hear the guy on the other side of the wall chewing his donuts. I can feel the hair standing on the back of my neck listening to my coworkers shrill voices. I can hear the phone ring, as if it’s right in front me. It won’t stop ringing. It just won’t stop.
Next thing I know, I’m standing outside on the wet cement next to Anastasia. The smell of the bus fumes snaps me back into reality. The reality that I actually am playing hooky from work. I can feel the coolness of the rain, and just how refreshing it is. Is this what relief feels like? I don’t know whether I’ve lost my mind, but it feels good. It feels really good.
I follow Anastasia through this old abandoned depot. The paint is peeling. The corners are full of cobwebs and old stains. We walk to the back where the old tracks are.
“Come on, follow me.” Anastasia explains.
We walk for about a mile down these old tracks. The plants growing through the cracks of the broken cement stand tall next to the nails popping up through the old rotting lumber. What a beautiful combination of decomposition and renewal the world has to offer us. We walk along this beautifully wild hedge, until we come up to a random opening. It was like walking through a portal into another world. The sun was rising over the distant hilltops, and the pinkness of the sky was slowly fading away. The winds changed, even. My shoulders feel relaxed for once. I notice the beating in my heart matches the rhythmically soothing beats of the faraway music. As we approach, a group of strangers are full of smiles and hearty laughter. I was walking as if I was a ghost using someone else’s body. I didn’t know what I was doing, but these beautiful strangers hugged me and brought me in. I was showered in flowers and glitter.
I feel like I had just been initiated into some really cool club. I can’t wait to really explore this festival. It sure beats the hell out of going to work. I still can’t believe I’m here. Where the hell is “here” anyway?
I did it. I flew to India.
There are huge stages, and beautiful pathways leading in every direction. There are interactive murals of live neon painting going on. Trapeze artists are flying in the distance. I follow Anastasia through multiple camps, and every single person has been unbelievably friendly. I’ve received 54 hugs in the last four hours. The stages are huge, and people have been dancing since 8 a.m. They genuinely seem happy.
A smiley man notices me staring out at the dancers, and walks up to me. He stares at me with wide eyes, and a smirk. We don’t release eye contact until seconds later, when he exclaims, “Open your mouth.” I glance over at Anastasia, and she already has an assured look on her face. For some godforsaken reason, I seemed to have built quite a bit of trust in that gaze because I opened my mouth without hesitation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vile. He dropped what tasted like sugar-water under my tongue. He stared again, and put his hands on my shoulders, leaned in and whispered, “Let Life take you.” He hugged me, and wandered off, leaving a trail of smiles.
I wander over to one of the stages. I’m so entranced with how freely everyone is dancing. I wander around as swirls of paisleys begin to dance around me. I feel the music pulling and tugging at the curves of my body. I’ve never moved this way before. I’ve never felt this way before. I’m lost in the colors playing in my eyelids. I open my eyes to the beautiful blue skies, and clouds start dancing to the beat. I close my eyes and it feels like I take myself out of my body and look around. I look at myself as if I’m one of those free folks I saw in social media posts. I was just watching myself, as if it were all in a dream.
There she was. The Wild in all her glory, tossing her hands around, shaking her hips, and stomping her feet. She was ready for a sweet free fall. I could just see her splashing back into her own soul. She didn’t find comfort in the vapidness of LCD screens, anymore. She gets her of Wild from the sun rays, and her magic from dancing with the breeze and swaying with the leaves.
That’s when I realized I had found my favorite drug. Her. Me. I was living a truth I never knew existed. I danced. I watched as people swooned over me. I saw the majesty of freedom kicking dirt up, as if to purposely dance with the laser beams flying through the air. There it was. The journey to enlightenment had just begun. Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
-Alexandra de Anda
