frost over

I walked across the top of the South Oval of campus and watched the turning leaves that were trampled and scattered under everyone's feet.  I watched people walk around with obviously "better" or "more important things" to do...getting to class, talking on cell phones, carrying on with friends about last night.  And I walked with a much broader perspective of everything around me -- of people's actions, of nature's actions.  And it occurred to me that we all scurry around with things that are productive and we don't notice the people who pass us every single day during our routine.  Or things that hold such beauty if we would stop and look around or listen or simply walk silently, if only for a moment.  I get into the whole miniscule analyzation of the unique moments that will never happen again in the same time and in the same place.  For some reason I feel that I am missing out on some defining moment or some didactic life lesson, revealed only in a second.  The more observant I become, the more I notice too many things happening at the same time.  Too many things that contribute to the normal flow of life and yet accentuate and complicate...that explicate and eradicate all of those parts that, when summed together, become this chaotic menagerie worth more than the individual parts.  Or this possibility of a simplistic model of human relationships.  So I close my eyes and put on my headphones to drown out the severely meticulous thinking only to feel more empty anyway.  And then I look down and notice the beautiful colors of the leaves -- fading, softening, crumbling apart -- as we all trek through the rain.  I slow down to soak it all up, breathe it all in, but everyone still bustles...