Clanging barbels and racing treadmills fill the heat soaked air inside the gym, where the broken air conditioner makes each step that much harder. I run facing the street, with windows twice my height mirroring back my image and giving me a view of the outside world. I count trains and cars and pedestrians to keep the time moving, trying to ignore the burning in my legs and chest. A car stops at the light, and now I’m distracted. The headlights are evenly placed to where they appear to shine out from the reflection of my own eyes. Is that what the philosophers meant when they told us that the soul of a person shines out of their eyes? Or the artists who say that the eyes are the window to the soul? I find I can hardly believe that remark. If it were true, there is no possible universe where my soul would be such a pure color. I have felt too much, seen too much, done too much for it to be simply white. No. I envision it to be a kaleidoscope of colors and hues, both darkness and light bound together in a triumphant dance. My passions and despairs, my aspirations and fears, the parts of me I gladly show the world and the pieces I hide away from view; all are too complex, too interdependent, too vast to be condensed to one single stream of light. Then I wonder what mine would look like to other people, would it be breathtaking and beautiful, heartbreaking and terrifying, or something completely different? And what then of the rest of the world? What if we knew the soul of a person by the lights in their eyes? What if les amoureux have discovered the secret, that they have discovered the ability to see past a person’s pupils and into their soul?
Well, today was supposed to be busy, but I suppose Mother Nature had other ideas. Right now I’m sat in front of my window at school, watching the snow pour down, rather than driving to the ski resort. It’s probably for the best, since driving in this weather would be a nightmare. I guess it means I have a lot of extra time to get my work done.
It is beautiful, watching the snow fall. I actually woke up around 3 in the morning and watched as the snow began to fall, and it was almost magical. Cliché I know, but it’s true. Where I grew up, we never had snow, so watching it coat the city in a frozen blanket is really neat. I can hear the snow plows running up and down the street below my window, and I can see people walking around in it, throwing handfuls at each other. There is something about snow that turns people back into children, if only for a little. I think it’s sweet.
Now I’m off to read for class, or paint a new piece – I’ll decide after I’ve had coffee. If you have a question for me, I would love the distraction. Otherwise, I hope everyone has a beautiful and safe Saturday!