viewing fireworks

The explosion that was needed to launch the first firework into the air lit up the whole sky. Before this explosion happened it was pitch black, which suited me just fine. The firework went up but it didn’t explode, which, by the wincing look on their faces, is what everyone was expecting it to do. Everyone including me. Instead the firework climbed to about 50 feet in the air and just burnt out, just stopped. As it peaked, it was suspended in mid-air for what seemed like more than half a second, but less than a whole second as what was left of its light fizzled out.

Considering the amount of money the State spends on these shows you would have thought that they could put on something impressive. All you do is let people down if you build their hopes up about something that turns out to be crap. They may as well just advertise that the display is going to be crap! They’d get the same turnout and maybe some people will leave smiling, pleasantly surprised.

There was another couple of seconds of complete darkness before the crappy firework’s successor shot into the air behind it. Picking up the rear. The whole crowd used the light from the second explosion to look each other in the eyes and express their disappointment in the first firework. I didn’t look at the person next to me, despite the fact that she was strikingly beautiful. If I did look at her I probably would have just smiled rather than express any disappointment. After all, a crap firework is better than no firework at all. I knew the experience wasn’t just about an initial explosion and a final explosion. What I saw was the gruelling journey along the way; the events that linked the two blasts, or in this case one blast and one fizzle, together. Not everyone’s life ends with a bang, some people prefer to fizzle out. It doesn’t really bother me either way, but for some reason I can tell that I’m going out with a bang this time round. I know it.

While everyone was using the brief explosion to look at each other and pull odd faces, I noticed that the smoke trail from the original firework was still there, suspended in the air like a solid object rooted into the ground. The wind must have been very slight, although I couldn’t tell being in the middle of a crowd, because this towering pole of smoke was just slightly to the left of the path that the second rocket took. This next effort went up parallel to the trail of smoke and on its way up I’m sure it could tell that what it saw to its left was its inevitable fate. Its grand finale grew ever nearer, could it manage an explosion to impress the crowds or would it fail like the last?

This isn’t failure you understand. To the crowd it might be, but to me something more beautiful was happening. There are times when going out with a bang would be completely the wrong way to go. As it underwent all of its stages and slowed down you could feel the tension in the crowd rising accordingly. People gradually quietened until the rocket’s peak was given the total silence and attention it deserved. Expectations were at their highest, putting more and more pressure on the firework to explode magnificently and feed their senses. To fulfil what they thought its purpose was.

However, this explosion never came! While the firework burnt out slightly higher in the air than the last, the level of disappointment for the crowd was identical, if not worse. For me, this firework was doing its best. The spectators had attended in order to experience the shock of the explosion, the colours, the light. They were there to experience pleasant emotions and to have delight literally wiped over their faces to share with each other. Instead, as the sky lit up throwing number three into the air, the crowd found themselves looking at each other once more, paying more attention to each other’s reactions than the intricate journey that was taking place above their heads. Is expectation not an emotion? Are dissatisfaction and discontent not experiences in the same way that satisfaction and content are? They take up just as much time and energy. They involve equal levels of concentration and awareness.

As with the first and second fireworks, the third was putting the onlookers through the exact same journey; the exact same range of emotions. Unfortunately for the crowd, this was not the journey they were expecting from a firework display, so the sensations they were having went unnoticed. As the third firework created the third amazingly parallel smoke trail, it hoped that more people would recognise its message and appreciate the event for what it was rather than dwell on what it could have been. The smoke trails stood tall like lines on a tally chart representing how many times the same experience had to be repeated before everyone realised the significance. I knew I wasn’t the only one who was appreciating the moment for what it was. While the girl I was stood next to was just as oblivious to the message as the majority of onlookers, I did notice a few faces held concentration throughout, learning the lesson and giving thanks and undivided attention to the messenger. There was a fourth firework and a fifth, each following a few moments of total darkness and silence. In these few moments everything could be appreciated and understood.

The fifth firework was the last. The final messenger. Strangely it went up at an angle and put a line through the smoke trails very much like a tally chart would. Would the crowd accept it’s offering of wisdom or could some of them actually ignore it and carry their high hopes over to the next display? I couldn’t care either way. If they didn’t learn this lesson here they would just learn it some other place, some other time in some other situation. But one thing that’s certain is that it has to be learnt. The next type of firework produced constant colour, which meant constant light and vision for the crowd. It didn’t leave the ground or shoot things from it. What I mean is it wasn’t an aerial one, so it didn’t disrupt the overhanging smoke trails, which were gradually fading as a reminder of an unexpected experience that didn’t get its full respect and gratitude. Everything seems to turn out like this. You can be certain that people will be tuned in for the final performance, they’ll claim to give their exclusive attention, but how can they appreciate what is happening there, at that moment in time, without an idea of the journey that led to that point?

The smoke trails impressed themselves into my memory as a symbol of an effort to educate that failed. An attempt to reach the masses that had its limelight stolen by a group dynamic that imprisoned its members.

I take these experiences as they come. Every single day I’m confronted by symbols that help me along the way, and every single day I have to watch other people miss their chances to gain wisdom and knowledge that would inevitably increase the quality of their light. I know it’s not my place to inform other people of what’s going on. They are responsible for themselves and their experiences. I literally flow between mine by the second, true to my fish Nature, and the next one was already upon me.

The constant light from the current firework meant that everything could be seen clearly, even if it was flickering and changing colour every few seconds. The girl next to me turned white, red, green as she looked me in the eyes. To the blue-faced girl I smiled, as it was all I could think of to do. She smiled back at me with an orange face. She knew nothing really needed to be said.

Whether she had learnt her lesson from the five fireworks or not didn’t matter, because she knew that the important thing was to move from experience to experience, and that the act of dwelling on an opportunity squandered was much more harmful than squandering the opportunity in the first place. We all have our Responsibilities that we would rather avoid. I suppose sometimes it’s just easier to deal with them in a comfortable situation, rather than a public one. While some Responsibilities are best dealt with in private or around friends, some, like the one I was now dealing with, required public exposure and embarrassment.

I’ve been living with this one for about a week now, and it’s showing no sign of letting up. You see, I’ve got this spot on my face. Now when I say spot you have to understand that it’s not your everyday zit that just needs squeezing and can be gone, unnoticed, within a day or so. This one managed to grow on top of a mole, set up camp and grow out of control. In fact, it’s so out of control that it’s affecting the normal skin around it. You know, making it bulge out just enough to make a visible difference. It’s just on the underside of my jawbone, half way between my chin and left ear. If I look straight ahead, tall and proud, it tucks itself away underneath quite nicely, so if I’m talking to someone they can’t really see it. However, I only have to look down a little and it gathers enough skin to push it out, so it’s looking straight at them. The further I look down the worse it gets until it looks like I’ve got what I can only describe as a cross between a double chin and the jowl of a dog with a big red eye all of its own.

So as I talk to the red-, green-, white-faced girl I’m trying to look straight at her, because if I look to the left I get a similar effect to when I’m looking at the ground, and if I look up in the air or to the right I put it directly on display in all its glory; big, red, sore and scabby with a few pieces of stubble sticking out, to make it look more painful than it actually is.

Anyway, I’m looking her directly in the eyes, which is what I would be doing with this girl anyway because her eyes are the most enchanting I’ve ever seen on a human. They don’t seem to have a colour. The light grey that they are is so pale that they look like sparkling white on a dull white background. She could have easily been an incarnation of an Air or Water Elemental, which was my attraction to her in the first place. I try to hold my gaze, but each time I have a nervous moment, each time I feel that rather inexplicable need to look away that we all get when we’re chatting. You know, when people come out with their little conversational idiosyncrasies that we weren’t ready for. When she does this, no matter what colour her face, I’ll glance away and my new red eye will give her a little wink, no matter which way I turn.

I have to say this is one of the more annoying Responsibilities I’ve been given recently. It pisses me off that you never get much advanced warning about the physical deformities. And I would go as far as calling it that!

I know what the lesson here is. I knew it on the first day. It’s simply telling me that I have to look directly at people, both when I’m talking to them and when they’re talking to me. The spot is trying to help me get over my remaining self-confidence issues. When you look straight at people, you have to talk confidently about things, otherwise you’ll look apprehensive, insecure or nervous and they’ll be able to see it in your eyes. Zit-less people can just look away when they feel uncomfortable, but now I look worse whichever way I turn, wherever I look for escape.

This spot is here to show me to keep my head up, and the problems might not go away, but they’ll be hidden behind something better, something more beautiful. Recently I’ve begun to realise that what I’ve got to say is actually worth saying. It’d actually be criminal not to say it and it’s a lot more worthwhile than the crap that a lot of people talk. This spot is just what I need to help me practice my new confident way of talking to people. By the time it fades the lesson will have been fully learnt and I can move on. There will obviously be a physical explanation for its disappearance, as well as a remedy that doesn’t incorporate its meaning and purpose, there always is, but I don’t pay attention to that.