WATCHING THE TRAFFIC

"Rain, Moon, Traffic", oil,
by Heidi Malott

Sometimes, at a stop sign in the car or strolling in a city, I simply watch the flow of the traffic, and there’s often something strangely serene about it – the sort of disordered evenness of the traffic, the curious turns and swerves it takes, the anomalous stops and start-ups that surprisingly happen in something like smooth routines. It’s almost fun to watch it, just as it’s sometimes fun to sit off to the side of my mind and watch the movement of a different kind of traffic – the continuous and convoluted flow of my thoughts. Like cars and trucks on highways, my thoughts stream along in a steady and occasionally serpentine manner, sometimes confusing me with their seemingly slapdash patterns, but always and endlessly moving. I see them streaming along -- thoughts of sorrow and happiness, of distress and joyousness, small thoughts and stupendous thoughts – and it’s somehow a pleasure to simply observe them as they ceaselessly flow. What’s wonderful is the awareness that they are not me – that these thoughts are just short-lived cerebral wisps wandering through my life. I can observe them and be mystified by them, but I can also sit back and smile, because they are not me. The real me stands aside. The thoughts flow by, but I stand strongly and peacefully aside.