BitterSweetLife

Every once in awhile I meet someone who goes through life with a look of mild perplexity on his face--not fear, not discomfort--but a head-cocked attitude of incredulity, as if his whole life he'd been watching a film that did not quite render accurately on the big screen.

For decades now he has been watching this movie, and there is a lingering sense of something off-center. Perhaps the camera is not capturing it all. Or the aspect ratio is haphazard and cropped the edges of the picture. Maybe the details would appear if viewed one frame at a time.

Because the film has surreal undercurrents. Something more than the color tones. The figures are occasionally blurry. The plot lines do not always resolve. And every so often he snaps to attention and remembers it is his own life, and the lives of those around him, that provoke this vague sense of disquiet.

He is living out a movie that does not quite render.

I like to consider this phenomenon as evidence of a better world, an eternal kingdom that is on the way but hasn't yet arrived. It's absence is so strong that everything currently present is colored by it. It's possible to go through one's entire life missing it, and looking at the present world quizzically, and wondering why the images and plot lines don't quite resolve.