The Life Behind Things: Seeing More and Living Unexcused
by Jennifer Paros
“The Fates guide the person who accepts them and hinder the person who resists them.”
Over six months ago, I was summoned for jury duty. As we all know, it’s a very good and noble thing to do one’s civic duty; however, I did not want to go. The other times I’ve been summoned, I was excused. So, with my dad having just died, and one or two other factors at play, I submitted my explanation and hoped to be excused again. This time, though, I was not. My summons was just delayed. During this period I was busy with executor duties, but still able to routinely find the time to dread going to jury duty.
I am a person who is often inclined to stay home. As a child, I remember looking at our pear-shaped, gray tabby, Muffy, wishing for her situation – the permanently excused life of a cat. Though she occasionally ventured out to the front steps of our house to observe life, once done, she could quickly return to the mother ship, something I often wished for at that time.
The first day of jury duty was spent in a very large, open room with floor-to-ceiling windows, a panoramic view of downtown, and lots of people. From 8:30 to 4:30 we waited to be called to a courtroom for voir dire – the jury selection process – but the majority of us were not called. Mostly I didn’t know or understand what was coming next, only that I couldn’t go home. By the end of the next day I was selected for a trial. For a time, my routine involved arriving early at the courthouse, going to the twelfth floor, putting my lunch in the refrigerator, chatting with fellow jurors, following the bailiff, lining up, being instructed, etc.
Soon, because I could no longer really “make” things happen in my day, I gave over to what was happening. I started taking note of where I was: on an elevator, in the courtroom or deliberation room, on light rail, or walking around downtown – and realized it didn’t matter to me if I was there, home, or somewhere else. The energy at play in my usual, self-directed days was still flowing despite these new conditions. Everything was temporary, moving quickly, with all of it equally alive – all moments caught and carried to their natural conclusions, one transitioning to the next. And one of the next moments would inevitably carry me home.
“One eye sees, the other feels”
Early in my art school days, I took a painting class in which we were taught about color: values, tints, mass tones, and undertones. After the first class, while walking home, I couldn’t look at a leaf or a house, the fencing along the way, the sidewalk or sky without seeing more. I not only saw more color; I experienced myself as more. Trained now to see differently, looking with new attention, I fell deeper into my experience. My awareness of the depth of life increased, including my awareness of what was in me. And that felt like loving and being loved.
In the film American Beauty, the character of Ricky Fitts, who videotapes almost everything he observes, shows his girlfriend the “most beautiful” thing he’s ever filmed. It is footage of a plastic bag being blown around on a city street.
“And this bag was just, dancing with me, like a little kid beggin' me to play with it – for fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know that there was no reason to be afraid, ever. “
I would like to always feel there is no reason to be afraid. But when I try to keep myself safe, there seems to be no “benevolent force” behind life – because I am simply too busy trying to direct things to feel it. I would like to be easy about answering anything that summons me, any call – whether jury duty, a relationship, a story to tell, a picture to draw, an idea to share. And my being easy is possible because, in truth, I have never really wanted an excused life, I have wanted a life of more. And that is available to all of us wherever we go, whenever we make ourselves available to it. It is seeing the colors in the color, the movement of the life behind things, and it is us – in all our depth.
Jennifer Paros is a writer, illustrator, and author of Violet Bing and the Grand House (Viking, 2007). She lives in Seattle. Please visit her website.