In the Room, Not on Zoom, Where it Happens
Where I really wanna be
In the Room, Not on Zoom, Where it Happens
There is a place I long for,
a place I still remember:
where the mood of the room
lives and breathes, altering
as soon as someone enters,
and we all sense it;
I met you for the first time yesterday.
You. Real you.
Not the pixeled one
I “met,” months ago
and thought I knew.
a place where our heads and shoulders
aren’t the only parts that matter;
where shifting feet and jiggling knees
speak volumes;
where the scent of cocoa
wanders from someone’s mug,
a stomach growls, and
laughter resounds deep in our chests;
I know now that
the real you
has perfectly miniature hands
that clasp in surprise,
and oceanic eyes that herald goodness.
a place where words overlap like waves,
pushing meaning and enthusiasm;
where all of us join together
to speak or sing or pray
in unison;
I know now that
the real you
drops into statue-like stillness
when you bow your head.
a place where you catch my eye when
my unmuted sigh somehow registers,
and I know you know
exactly how I feel;
The real you
gently laid down your pen
and leaned in
when my voice wobbled with emotion.
a place where sorrow draws your hand to mine,
and together they console, skin to skin;
where all heartbeats eventually synchronize
like timepieces in a clock store;
where people stand and stretch
in unpredictable ways;
and where leave-taking
is gradual;
The real you
hugged every one of us goodbye.
With real arms that squeezed and enfolded us
in the real warmth and real breath
and real love
that is really you.
a place where dimensions are multiple,
instinct is palpable,
and “to meet” still means
proximal bodies gathered on a physical plane,
experiencing the totality
of other impossibly vast,
fully unknowable beings.
That is where I want to be. In that room.
Sharing a tea or muffin or grief or delight.
Now that we have met there, please
don’t make me settle
for the flattened facsimile version
of the spherical world
that is you.
Because the real me will forever long
for the roundness
of real community;
for the exponential warmth
of embodied souls—
the real you, the real me, the real us;
for the wildfire magic of ideas
and the unstoppable power of human love
that explodes in a real room,
when real worlds,
real people,
collide.
Really.
This IS our only true reality, and thankfully, many of us are migrating back to that meeting room and recognizing it as sacred space.
Thank you, as ever, for penning us in the direction of what matters. 💚🫖☀️
Well said. I miss it too! Suspect we all do