Dim lights hang in the large gymnasium. Shadows creep in the corners of the darkened building where boxing bags and a boxing ring are the only things that occupy the space between the light and darkness. A man walks slowly through the open space and heads toward a wall. The light reveals, against the wall, a darkened figure. The individual’s dark doppelganger stands before him. The shadow faces him, waiting to mock his movements.
The man rounds out his shoulders and lifts his arms; fists clenched.
He reflects on what has been going on his life as everything around him fades.
His feet begin to shift from heel to toe as he bounces from left foot to right.
He thinks of how powerless he has felt as the winds of life sweep through his concrete platform which he builds up.
Jab.
He thinks of what was, what is, and the uncertainty of what will be.
Uppercut.
His doppelganger mocks every movement.
He thinks about the loss of the support system he had and what will come. What will come?
He dips below as his shadow throws a right cross, mirroring his.
He thinks about his own isolation as he begins to curl up in an all too familiar cocoon of solitude. The quiet depths of solitude that echo strange sounds of the living person high above. The person who calls out for the one who journeyed so deep into the canyon as not to be seen. The search exhausts him.
He begins a flurry of uppercuts at his opponent who reflects his.
He thinks of his mother as she suffers from physical and emotion pain. He hears her cries of exasperation as she regrets not doing more and seeing more. He hears her worries of the future. He hears her. It seeps into his thoughts and changes his view as it skews to where her pain flows.
Jab.
Left.
Left.
Right.
Uppercut.
Uppercut.
Left.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
He lets those thoughts fade away as he comes to the realization that this is not something he can control. He realizes that there is only one way that this will all fade. It is the combination of time and faith. It is a time of waiting for movement. Waiting for the chance to live a life that is the one he shapes and not the one he is thrust into by the ever changing winds of fate. The chance to live a life less ordinary. Waiting for chance.
He stops his assault on his doppelganger as he breaths the stinging needles from his lungs and his chest rises and falls rapidly. He looks at the shadow figure and realizes that his opponent is what he always feared it was.
The inevitable.
-Chris
Introspections During Quiet Time 