"I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not" (L Frank Baum)
In about 10 days, the Broad Street Run taunts my father, sister, and I. Last year, I suffered through the 10 miler which runs straight down the spine of Philadelphia... competition with myself forced a 90 minute finish time (with two weeks training prior). It was satisfying to be sure, but the near three months of recovery that followed challenged the wisdom of self imposed fitness goals. Frustratingly, I find myself less prepared this year than last - which was certainly not the intention around Christmas when 10-12 miles felt easy and sights were set on spring marathons. Generally I'd approach the race with the same arrogant, competitive edge - confident that I could push my body through 10 miles of pain. This year, I figure that I'll just live vicariously through the fit runners and enjoy a leisurely walk down Broad Street. Either way... I feel that next Sunday I'll feel pain - either from physical exhaustion or shame/disappointment for accepting "defeat".
Funny the way it is, if you think about it..
Not right or wrong:
Somebody's going hungry and someone else is eating out
One kid walks 10 miles to school, another's dropping out
On a soldier's last breath his baby's being born
Somebody's broken heart becomes your favorite song
(Dave Matthews Band)
Mirages... illusions... everyone embraces them to some extent. Of course, with everything, different levels and intensities create various powers of destruction/negativity. Not entirely sure why these ironies or false perceptions are on my mind tonight, nor how it's connected to the Broad Street suffering. Perhaps it's the radio show I heard this afternoon regarding domestic abuse. A woman suggested she fell in love with the "representative" of a man, not the man himself... so when the illusions and surface melted away, the representative left and only the genuine man remained - who sadly, she found to be rather loathsome.
...whether through life experiences or natural tendencies, I've found myself to be a rather distrustful and cynical person. Thankfully, I also hold a particularly stubborn pattern of hopeful, optimistic thought; thus I am able to sway the cynical side. However, the distrust remains. And certainly, conversations and thoughts regarding representatives.. illusions.. mirages within people - don't encourage trustful thoughts. In social services, it's quite useful because it allows me to cut through the malarkey people present, searching for the inner real substance.
(side note: malarkey is such a great word)
But, at the end of the day, knowledge and ability to see the illusions and mirages for what the defense mechanisms, protection, insecurity, and selfishness that they may represent... just makes me tired, through and through. I see them in others because they exist so clearly in myself, if allowed.
Peter Pan struggles to catch his shadow and attach it again to his feet. The tricky cloned shape of Peter ducks, hides, and sneaks until finally caught - realigned to Peter's movements, reflecting each one in a darker form.
Another scene from The Lost World comes to mind as the boys eat their pretend dinner, laughing and joking about the delicious food they are consuming...when it's actually empty air without calories or nutrition.
In many ways, the wonderful story of Peter Pan shows the draw of illusions... and in a way, it provides an innocence and freedom that's intoxicating. I wonder, if I were Wendy, if I would choose to "grow up" and return home... or simply remain in the Lost World, fighting Captain Hook and dancing merrily through the woods.
A teedle ee do tee day
We're out for fun
And this is the game we play
Come on, join in
And sing your troubles away
WIth a teedle ee dum
A teedle do tee day
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