Welcome to First Church of the Streets. Updated by the 15th of the month.

May 2005
Photo Copyright © 2005

by Jessica Kuzmier

     If you close your eyes as you stand in the sun, you can't tell what season it is. The sun seems too strong for the winter, the breeze too cold for the summer, and yet neither the sweet smell of spring nor the burnt odor of autumn punctures your nose. It is as if you are removed from any time, as though you are wandering in some foreign land where all the landmarks are unfamiliar to you, and you have lost all compasses, all technology that man has invented to guide you along your way. You are part of the landscape now, a small speck painted in to blend in with the rest of the unknown hues.

     You hear the dripping of water, as though you have arrived by an eddy of a glen, the water running, running, running. Where is it going so fast? What happened to the infinitesimal slowness of nature, where it's a big deal if a whole mountain moves two centimeters in a year? What, is the water trying to be something that it's not? Trying to defy the laws of nature or something? What's the rush? You're not in a rush, and you're human. Open your mouth, and taste the air. Cold, isn't it? Like fresh mountain brewed. Wow, it is a sensation. You feel a shiver through your body and think of getting a hot chocolate to warm up. Yet the idea of tasting water as cold as the air you've just ingested seems to spark something deep within you, as though that is what you really want. That water you just dissed: where did it go? Where is it?

Photo Copyright © 2005

     Open your eyes now, and you remember. The brightness assails you, as though you've just woken up to eternity and have been reminded that Moses has been the only person to see the face of God since the fall of Eden. Man, who turned the sun on so bright? What's the deal? You reach for sunglasses, and then you realize you forgot them at home, because the day started out cloudy, with a threat of precipitation. Not a wise idea; the doctors will all tell you that you can get sun blindness on a cloudy day. Especially in the winter, which you remember is what's going on about you when you finally can see. Everything is white, and you go from seeing God to angels of white to fallen snow all in one second, except instead of a fall from Eden, you feel like you've just fallen into it.

     Stand and feel the air, feel the sun basking, hear the snow melting. A thaw in the middle of winter is like a unexpected cold drink in the desert. Yes, there is life! Yes, there is an oasis! The air and the snow, they merge together to form a blanket of silence. The sun radiates with them, and you stand in the midst of it, a figure on the landscape, absorbing it all. Then you close your eyes again, this time knowing where you are. But it no longer seems important to know, and soon you are lost in it all once again.