The Third Child - Session 3

(Beep. Music fades in)

Momentum is a powerful force. Not just in physics but in relationships as well. It isn’t unbeatable, mind you, but it’s strong. I just don’t feel it right now. I don’t feel it here with you. When I dream of you, I don’t feel us being pulled along a track, completely powerless to the winds that move us forth. It’s not like that at all. At least, not how I feel it. 

And this may sound cold, but isn’t part of the problem that your father’s death shook up your world? Because that will break up your momentum as well as anything else could. 

And look, I’m sorry to bring it up. I’m sorry I started out that way. But you were clearly going to be in the midst of that train of thought when you hit play. That’s all you’ve been able to think about lately, so while I can’t always pick up on details, I liked my odds on that one. Hence I ran with it. How else was I going to bring it up? But that didn’t make it right, I know. And I am sorry. I’m sorry that things are the way they are at the very least. Never mind that I played into them. Never mind that I did so with such ease. 

And I could also apologize for my bravado. While I don’t have a lot of that, I tend to pull it out at inopportune times. There’s an art to knowing when to use it. There’s an art to setting aside that aspect of ourselves, especially when another person is involved. I’m not great at interacting with other people. I’m sure you’ve noticed. There’s so many examples of that on this feed. I might try my best. I do try my best. But intentions and outcomes are two very different things. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And there you go. I broke my momentum on that one. But like I said, that’s nothing new. Your life’s momentum was broken a while ago. The first cracks started with your father’s decline, but then came his death–far sooner than anyone had thought. With that came the complete break. And even if you aren’t fully aware of it, everything is still for the moment. 

But who am I kidding? You are somewhat aware of it. Of the still. That all of your momentum is gone. 

On one hand, that should soften your concern or your fears a bit. Clearly, it's not the momentum that’s kept you in this relationship. It can’t be if you don’t have any. But that’s a tale you’ve heard so many times. It’s a tale I’ve told, in fact. Momentum can keep people affixed to the skeletal remains of what had once been a good relationship. It can keep you from moving on to another phase of your life. But that can’t happen if you don’t have any momentum to speak of, right?

But on the other hand, there’s a reason why human beings find this figurative momentum so persuasive. It’s not quite a matter of physics, of ‘objects in motion staying in motion until something stops them.’ Because we are not objects. we are sentient beings who could stop ourselves at any time. And sometimes we do choose to. We could choose an alternative, but we don’t always. The times when we do are not relevant to you. You are worried about the time when no one stops the carousel. The horses keep circling and circling long after the child on board finds it fun. Why then? Why wouldn’t the operator stop the ride then? 

Metaphor, aside, it’s not that complicated really. Assuming there is a choice involved. We’re simply beings that draw comfort from that movement, in being tossed about a bit. In the familiar. In knowing what is going to happen. And in knowing that things will change again. 

Stillness can be more disconcerting, though, because stillness can mean sitting present with one’s thoughts and feelings, which–to be fair–is the point of many beneficial mindfulness practices, but those don’t work for everyone. Maybe they’re supposed to, but you and I know what it means to be exception to that. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

We both know–or let’s be honest here, are–we both are the sort of people who don’t want to sit alone with our thoughts. That’s another benefit to movement. Momentum’s winds can blow that all away, or at least, give us something else to distract ourselves with. Or better yet, it might bring something with which we can pull ourselves out of our own heads. And you would do anything to get out of your own head. And that’s why, in a more roundabout way nothing your partner is doing to comfort you is really all that helpful right now. He is earnestly trying to do right by you, true. You don’t deny that. You don’t deny that he is doing everything he can, above what you might expect, but you know why he is doing it. You know why, and in the silence of all that  you don’t say, it’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about. The why. The simple fact that your father is gone. Long before you were ready to say goodbye. Then again, maybe you would have never been ready, but that only proves how hard this all is. It might have been inevitable, but it was not bearable. 

But what is he supposed to do right now? You both want to ask someone that. I’m the obvious choice, given… everything. But that doesn’t mean I know. There’s no reason to think that anyone out there would know. But you want that to be true. You want someone to know even if you can’t reach out to them and ask them for yourself. There’s something comforting about an answer or the existence of an answer, even if you can’t see it. And the ’why that’s so’ might change depending on the context, but this ‘why’ is a bit more clear. It means your relationship can go on. 

Because you don’t want to let him go. You want to be as happy as you were together before this all happened. And that seems simple, but it isn’t. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

It wasn’t just death that happened to the two of you but life. Or that’s one way of putting it. That’s a way of being a bit… not overly dramatic, exactly, but it’s an attempt to be under dramatic but loops right back around in a true missing of the point. But you don’t want to draw attention to it, especially from anyone on the outside. And I will respect that, insofar as I am able to. But you know–from experience–that knowing of something is part of the problem, right? You would feel comfortable wiping that thing from your mind, but you can’t do it. You know that your interpretation of what he said and what he meant were two completely different things. But you still can’t shake the feeling. 

You wanted love to be easy. You hoped it would be easy. But if your father were here, he’d tell you that romantic love seldom is. All forms of love have their challenges, true, but he would not have bogged you down with the details. Like I do. He would be better at that than I am, I know. And I wish I could bring him back here for you. I wish he could be here to help you. 

But in the end, you would still have to make that final step yourself. There’s only so much that he could have done. This is still your journey to travel, a sense of momentum that you have to generate.

An object in motion will stay in motion, sure, but an object at rest… Well, you know how it goes. But you are a person, not an object. You have to pick your direction. You have to make a choice. Things won’t settle out on their own.

(Music fades out. Beep)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?