We All Have

On the bus to a job interview, I do not rest for a moment, but can not tell you the virtue of my diligence. A welter of adrenalin confusion attention withdrawal, what does it, how would I, maybe if it’s true—confidence is not a measure of competence—appearance is real, not merely a sign. And at a party yesterday a stranger told me that I am like a swan on the water that begins to fly at first by straining its neck, by slowly stretching its wings, and then running on the water. The excitement, too, is of the process, moving toward satisfactions not felt, to a sanity of what is real and whole, the flight of a swan. And in this picture of the world, I see myself an unusual man, giving attention to the things he shares with everyone. We all have eyes and ears to see and hear; we all talk about the weather. Sitting on a bus, we keep to ourselves; the sun shines over our shoulders. In this light, fatigued and curious, I stare at my neighbors. We all have nothing to say, yet, for the moment, are everything we mean. 12 May 1982