The Pits

Have you ever wondered what a butterfly feels like moments before it’s born? The unique feeling of suffocation that’s a debilitating concoction of impotence, and frustration at that state of impotence. It’s almost claustrophobic, but without the accompanying dread. The butterfly-to-be is perfectly aware that the process is in motion, and that nothing it does, or feels, is going to change that fact. Yet, that special agony of being trapped in a limbo state, a black box with no pinhole, remains.

Have you ever wondered how it would feel like to be at the heart of a nuke moments before it goes off? Perhaps you would feel the choking pressure of the tremendous amounts of energy compressed into the tiniest of spaces. Perhaps you would begin to ‘see’ the mad dance of the Universe’s most miniscule inhabitants - the way you normally see birds, skyscrapers and well dressed women- and their frenzy, their sheer undiluted restlessness hidden away in a facade of stillness. Maybe, what you would feel won’t all be awe. You might feel helpless at the stark inevitability of it all. Or perhaps, in the final moments, the last remnants of your optimism would rally, and you would hope that Sanity hits the off switch real quick.

Do you even know what a fragile state of being is? Have you ever put yourself in the place of, say, a soap bubble? No, don’t stop at the spherical shape. Wear the soapy film of the bubble like a second skin. Experience the delicate balance of forces that keeps the body from dissolving into nothingness. Forces that, at face value, are completely mismatched: it’s only your inherent elasticity, a love for your own skin if you will, that keeps at bay the powerful and insidious forces that the outer realm teems with. Appreciate this fact, and you might just begin to see the meaning of a fragile state of being.

Did you get all that? Now you might, you just might, get a faint inkling of how I feel when I’m listening to metal sitting in an overpopulated cab with five other people.