Gravity: Falling and Flying
In high school it occurred to me that all my favorite songs were about Gravity or Rain (you’ll have to wait for another time when I tackle some rain ramblings). Gravity, and all its poetic implications, has occupied much of my headspace throughout the short span of my life.
Have you ever thought about how much this force of nature effects us not only physically, but that it has somehow woven itself into how we think, feel, and develop as human people?
We’re falling in love.
You could feel the weight of the situation.
That was some heavy stuff.
I’m so attracted to him.
I feel light headed.
We walk through life with our feet stuck to the ground, constrained by the pull of it. Though, gravity is really only a constraint in our superhero fantasies. If we avoid jumping from rooftops, most days gravity is a welcomed companion. We know how to conduct ourselves in this world of planted things.
If the force of gravity wasn’t part of the human experience just think of how our thought patterns and syntax would be different. Would we know what it’s like to fall in love or come back down to earth?
In college I discovered the work of Scottish poet John Glenday in one of my class anthologies. (I highly recommend all his poetry, especially “Concerning the Atoms of the Soul” from Undark, published by Peterloo Poets, 1995). His poetry eloquently captured that mystical sense of gravity that I had always felt. It was all about falling and flying, lightness (both senses of the word) and dark, about being drawn to and away from things–home, innocence, faith.
There are hints we’ve been given which speak of the old magic. Signs given to interpret. Because ultimately I believe we are people of story and it is an indistinguishable element of our being and the world we inhabit.