Silhouettes of the Living

I put down the kindle and sat perfectly still. I was stunned. The Book Thief  had been my first "fun-read" in a while and it left me deeply moved. Mark Zusak, the author, ends his story with these words, "I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I even simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant . . . I AM HAUNTED BY HUMANS.” 

Though I am not Death personified, as was the speaker for the above quote, I find that we have a common characteristic that is crucial to the work that we each do. We both observe humans. 

Luckily I am not Death (it seems like a pretty demanding job from what Terry Pratchett has explained in Mort. Definitely worth reading by the way. Like satire? Like Fantasy? Like reading, period? This is a book for everyone). Anyway, back to not being Death.  Luckily I am not Death, but I am a writer. And we have similar responsibilities. I watch the world move. I listen, I observe, I take note. Recently I've spent a lot of time traveling. A year ago I went abroad to the UK for the first time, I went to Mendocino, California on my Honeymoon, and other places. Needless to say, I've been collecting photos. And it's not flashy or even edited, but they are my Silhouettes of the Living. 

This is one of my favorite pictures I took while in Scotland. I never saw her up close but I often wondered about her. Why was she on St. Andrews beach? Did she walk there often? Was she always alone? What was she thinking? She became my silhouette of peaceful loneliness. Most people know what it is to be lonely. And many are more acquainted with the condition than they deserve. Loneliness is actually my greatest fear. The idea of never-ending silence, inescapable solitude, it eats at my mind like rust. But on a lonely shore in Scotland, this woman, whoever she may be, proved that it can be peaceful and beautiful.

This guy was standing across the Thames from St. Paul's Cathedral. I was coming from the Globe Theatre and had just spent twenty minutes in the Tate Modern. I was walking among the crowds and suddenly ran into a bubble. "Odd," I thought. But I was instantly delighted. Farther down the plugged sidewalk I saw a small space carved out for a young man who was creating bubbles. It might sound silly, but a bearded, beanied, graphic t-shirted, young man creating bubbles was one of the most lovely things I saw in London: a silhouette of pure delight.

While walking the edges of Mendocino we decided to explore the grasses that led towards the cliff edge and the stairs that took us down to the sand and the stray waters of the Pacific. They never looked up, I assume they were rather engrossed in their novels, but as we walked we passed fairly close to these two lovely readers. One was a young girl and the other an older man but they each sat, listening to the water lap and swirl on the edges of their world as they read the words of another world. I've always loved to read. It's been my solace in moments of escape, my friend in moments of loneliness, my imagination in moments of possibilities, and my repose in moments of stress. I've always wanted to make my home more of a small library, my windows would be reading nooks, and hot cocoa or a summer day blanket would always be ready so one can read comfortably in every season. I firmly believe that God gave me books. And looking at these two I felt the beauty of preservation. Words preserve the stories we hope to remember. And though the man had probably grown old reading on this beach, his books held the prints of his weathered hands. She had only begun to form his old tradition. But in both, I saw the silhouette of preserved possibility.

On a different section of the coastline, a few miles distant from the readers, we saw a family playing as a boat got ready to sail out. The silhouette of carefree companionship.

Twenty or so miles south we were lodging in Jennings. A stunning totem pole was erected on the cliffs, and wildflowers were growing everywhere, coating the dirt and surrounding the cliff rocks. A bank have promises and initialed hearts carved into its face, and herbs were sprouting nearby. Spencer ran around like an excited little boy, who couldn't get anywhere fast enough. I was so happy. I can't really express the extent of my feeling but Spencer presence gave me perfect contentment. He emanated a contagious excitement for everything. Life was an exhilarating adventure and he wasn't going to miss a single part of it. He is my most dear silhouette: the silhouette of abiding anticipation and enduring happiness.

Perhaps the most wonderful part is that we each have the opportunity to be silhouettes of the living. When a person looks at me I hope they see life. I hope they see anticipation, happiness, possibility, delight, companionship, and peace following my footsteps. I hope that when people observe me, the way I so often observe them, they see something worth remembering. 

-Natalie Cherie