gray
chicago, december 2018.
uninspired.
i’ve been feeling uninspired as of late. i had a little, how do you say, run in with a metal door a couple weeks ago and sustained a concussion. i spent a week in recovery mode. my screen time was reduced to less than an hour a day, i didn’t watch television, couldn’t do homework, and wasn’t supposed to stress my cognitive functions. however, i think as i breathe. it Has to happen, simply a part of my being.
but nonetheless, i pushed all the elusive thoughts away, put on my sleep mask and went about my period of rest.
so I Suppose with my return to normalcy, my mind was bound to run rampant. i’ve found myself in a persistent state of pensivity.
i’ve been having an affair with the confusions and curiosities of the subconscious of my mind, building a home there. a room for the past, furniture of people and opportunities. the decorum centered around questions of “what if.” a room for all of my future, with shelves of 7 feet bending to bear the weight of all that i want. i’ve allowed it all rent free in my mind, boxing up and moving out the present. and it’s left me feeling..:
well, gray.
how can you even describe the color gray?
what it looks like, what it evokes.
it’s dull. stagnant and unmoving. somewhere between lifeless and light. uninspired. but where do we see it? other than the decorations of our parents kitchens or living rooms, of course.
the first thing that comes to mind for me is the sky. earlier this week the sky was an abyss of grayness. no definition to the clouds, no parting for the sun, just gray. with the hiding of the sun, it was accompanied by a fleeting winter. a nice contrast to the usual sweltering heats of hell, i suppose. but it’s just
gray.
i didn’t realize i was in a state of gray until i was on my daily drive about one day. the sky was, of course, gray.
the night before lana del rey had released the album chemtrails over the country club. i’m no stranger to lana, the songs “lust for life” and “stargirl interlude” are found on march (21), taking part in characterizing this month for me. but i don’t usually keep up with just released music. i’ve always missed the boat by intentionality so that i can set sail on my own time, going about in my own way. but as i was going through instagram stories at a red light on alafaya, i saw the album cover. black, white, and
gray.
chemtrails over the country club, lana del rey's latest album1
so, i suppose a part of me did know i was amidst the gray- perhaps it was swept under the welcome mat of my subconscious home. because, i know it sounds strange, how the filtering of an image can incite so much within one, but i saw the gray and decided Right Then i simply Must listen to the album, in this moment, at this red light.
again, as i said, i don’t keep up with new music. therefore, track 2. five minutes and some odd seconds after i pressed play on the album, this was the very first time i had heard the song “chemtrails over the country club.”
and it moved me.
in a way that i realized i was lacking recently. the imagery. the parallels. the vocals. the lyrics, the chorus. the desire. it all just resonated with me so deeply. attracting me with gray, it showed me i was lost amidst it.
overall it was a stellar album, standouts to me in a specified order are as followed: “chemtrails over the country club,” “tulsa jesus freak,” “let me love you like a woman,” “not all who wander are lost,” “white dress,” and “yosemite.”
but none really affected me as much as “chemtrails over the country club.”
i ended my drive as soon as i listened to “tulsa jesus freak,” parking my car in the barnes & noble parking lot. i was feeling a touch of, dare i say,
inspiration.
i wandered through the doors, immediately drawn to the poetry section.
i have never been one for poetry, but over the month of march a lovely coworker of mine has shared a few of her most beautiful pieces with me. they evoked such poignancies, i thought
perhaps.
i found one, with covers promising of the exploration of “the road between” who you are and whom you will be. perfect,
so i thought.
since purchasing, i have read the book of poems. front to back, cover to cover. on a bench in sanford to be exact. it was beautifully written, though not what i expected. more remnant of finding yourself after someone has taken everything you are, rather than the exploration of self influenced by self. the words found me at the wrong time. perhaps months or years ago, i would have bandaged the book over the wounds of my heart until time could heal them into scars. but alas, they hit softly like a pillow of craft feathers rather than a dagger signifying the necessity of change.
but then,
as i was checking out at barnes & noble, i was ignorant of this. on some high of abandoning the gray.
i continued my drive to finish the album, down through avalon park. i remember overlooking the quaint pond as “yosemite” played for my first time. back up alafaya, turning onto another road, merging into another, and down the final. i arrived home as the last notes faded into silence, along with that little spark of inspiration.
as i crossed the threshold of my apartment, back to the home of my subconscious i went, moving the welcome mat on my way in, exposing what was swept beneath, allowing myself to plainly see the awareness of the gray. the only question was, well,
what am i to do now?
as i walked into my room, i saw a fishing pole propped against a twine of green ivy, having not been put away after its most recent endeavor.
by george, i had it!
the woods.
i would retreat to the woods and come out on the other side in the clear. clearing of the woods. clearing of the mind. back to the vibrancies of color. so i went to my laptop and googled,
“woods near orlando”
that’s it, just woods near orlando. i was actually confronted with an array of answers, some of the most helpful information came from alltrails.com and floridahikes.com. alltrails.com provided ample photos and reviews for each option2, while floridahikes was both more localized and personal. floridahikes is ran by a sweet elderly couple that have hiked all throughout the state of florida and provide personal anecdotes, specific directions, and overall it feels almost like a conversation3. anywho, i finally settled upon the nearby blackbear wilderness area. a cute little 7 mile hike.
it was beautiful and breathtaking and full of feeling. it was warm, the morning brought a dense fog, bringing the gray of the sky down to earth. once it neared noon, the sun was found to be shining through breaks of the canopies. a ladder descending down onto a dock of the st johns provided a cool breeze. i spent miles tripping over tree roots. i took pictures of everything around me, wanting to hold onto every moment. this experience was exactly what i needed.
i stopped at a bench and journaled all that i had found in the wood.
it’s not always black and white, in fact, i don’t believe it ever is.
i’ve always found myself to live within the extremes, finding comfort in chaos or total organization. blissful happiness or bedridden depression.
i couldn’t be within the in-between.
it had to be only one. if the other just peered its head around the corner, i abandoned the former, diving into the depths of the latter. i realized
the gray was not something i needed to frantically find my way out of.
now, it’s not something i need to build a home within, but it’s not something to escape. it is
the in-between.
2021 has been a year of happiness for me. i’ve been so intentional in the curation of my present that i didn’t even recognize the gray as it came. i mistook it for everything opposing where i was and where i wanted it to be. but it is simply part. life is not black and white. it is black, white, and everything in between. fifty shades of gray. bursts of bright colors.
we need it all, because It Is it all.
after these realizations, of course it was necessary for a series of events- that could make anyone spiral- to transpire. my phone overheating (and subsequently never turning on again). knowing everything was backed up… except my hiking pictures. the views and memories i wanted to hold onto, lost in the abyss of processors, never to be reviewed, never to be held close. or getting lost in sanford (with no navigation). thinking i lost my debit card.
it was upsetting, but- necessary. because the thing about gray skies is what it signifies:
rain.
we wait in anticipation for the bottom to fall from the sky. the gray clouds have grown so heavy, so weighted by all that they are that they release it all in a state of catharsis. the rain proceeds to wash away all that was. all that bore weight of heavy.
and then, here comes the sun.
it all happens so suddenly and so interwovenly. we Need all of the colors. all of the weather. we can’t just make a home, sheltered in the confusion of it all.
we have to dwell Within It All.
the vibrant colors of experiences that inspire and take your breath away. the white light of experiences full of pure peace. the darkness of experiences accompanied with hurt. and, the gray experiences of stagnation, confusion, uninspiration. we need it all.
it’s not black and white. it’s bright, black, white, and
gray.
1Del Rey, Lana. Chemtrails over the Country Club. Spotify. Polydor Records, Interscope Records, 2021. https://open.spotify.com/album/6QeosPQpJckkW0Obir5RT8.
2All Trails. “AllTrails.” AllTrails.com. Accessed March 26, 2021. https://www.alltrails.com/.
3Friend, Sandra, and John Keatley. Florida Hikes, November 12, 2020. https://floridahikes.com/.
