Dimensions

Dimensions
 
Things are constantly in flux  
everything speeds up, slows down.
We comprehend in glimpses ~
oh, if only we could see!
 
Are dimensions parallel?
Crisscrossing, intersecting?
Twinklings we call Déjà vu?
Lives we recognize only
in dreams or whenever the
unexpected connection
with another human soul  
solidifies suspicions?
What do we do/can we say?
 
We shake them off with a laugh
or a sigh: conveniently
forget to make mention of
inexplicable junctures
to anyone, except to
‘strangers’ or to someone with
us in the ‘waiting in line
at the register’ delays
when if the listener comments,
later, ‘Boy I met a whack
job this morning at Safeway’  
no one cares, no one questions.
 
I caught them during childhood.
Shook off as ‘I don’t know what
this is’ and went about the
more important business of
play.  Yes, play is important. 
I noticed them during young
adulthood and even more
as a college student.  The
puzzle spilled, apparent, on  
my subconsciousness’ table.
It struggled for the surface ~
grasped by whatever current
dimension I occupied.  
Sporadically, they seeped
into my crystallized thoughts. 
The real ones.  The ‘AHA’ ones.
Ones we seldom acknowledge
and barely discuss except,
but, one on one with ourselves.
 
I’m a firm believer that
when we are ready, people
arrive; we read impactful
words and allow them entry;
we hear a melody or
lyrics which register; we
notice paintings or photos
and can’t stop looking.  We watch
a movie and we know.  We
understand. We crest a hill
and look…and we are moved so
profoundly we feel as if
our singular heart might burst.
We stand there, without movement
and we look and we feel and
we KNOW.  Defining Moments.
 
The best we can hope for is
we recognize a couple
of these constants.  Awaken.
See beyond exteriors.
 
But we contemporaries
constantly move, constantly
speak, are always a tither
wasting energy, fighting,
posturing, and confronting.
 
We have little time to waste…
on things we can’t measure or
evaluate with our five
senses, disregarding the
sixth and most important.  The
reckoning travels toward
us. Who will know it’s arrived?
 
We think it’s one thing, but it
might be something else: who knows?
 
You and I say exactly
the same thing at exactly
the same time and we laugh. I
think something, then you turn to
me and tell me exactly
what I just thought. I see you
in a dream, but it isn’t
now: it must be some Other
Time, but I don’t know you.  You
live three thousand miles away
and we will never meet.  The
Universe conspires to make
everything happen so that
we might live our intentions
and if you can’t see that or
won’t believe it, how sorry
I am for you, because you
cannot see the magic of
this glorious paradigm.
 
I always wondered if we
would, somehow, meet in person.
 
 
 
9-26-2020 by Barbara Helvey Hughes
Getty image appears on front page of this poem
For Peter McKinnon, who jumped and spun through space and time to find me.
Love is the language spoken here.