What do we do with the subterranean parts of our lives? Like a city’s infrastructure we have this stuff going on below the surface that never stops but is rarely visible. It is good and bad, joyous and sad, it is our internal world.
With constant stimulation and a need to project this persona of having it all together . . . all the time, when do I get a chance to take stock of what is going on under the surface of my life?
I shuffle the stuff I don’t know how to let out or haven’t developed a vocabulary to express. I put these unprocessed feelings on something like an internal subway that races around inside me. My passengers seem to board the train just fine but, like the guests of the notorious Hotel California, they never seem to find the appropriate stop to get off the train at.
A song by Leif Vollebekk has inspired this thought process here with his song When the Subway ComesAbove the Ground. It has led me to ask what would it look like if the subway carrying my internal struggles were to surface? Would it be like in those movie scenes where a character just finally unleashes everything they have been thinking and keeping hidden away in this dramatic monologue in a less than ideal setting. That sounds mortifying! Perhaps it could happen by just having a regular place where the subway is intentionally directed to the surface.
This has been an exercise for me to find answers to the question “how might a person be known?”
Do you wonder about this question? Do you fear or look forward to the subway coming above the ground? Would love to hear your thoughts.