Flecting

If “reflecting” is living life and then looking back on it, does that mean that “flecting” is what you do before you look back?  Is “flecting” a synonym for living?

I just posted this on my facebook page:

Anyone picking up on that big whiff of irony?  See, I’m saying that maybe we should all spend more time DOING and less time documenting what has been done.  And then here I am, apparently just 57 minutes later, documenting that I made this statement.  See?  Clever, no?  Maybe?  Hello?

***

Ima let me finish in a minute, but first I just want to say that I had one of the coolest nights I’ve had in a long time last night.  Certainly one of the most (the only?) spontaneous mini-adventures that I’ve had since … oh, I don’t know … since I decided on a whim to bike down the coast of California when I found myself, unexpectedly, with a week off from my summer job in college.  (Such a cool ride, by the way.)  Anyway, it’s safe to say that a lot of time has come and gone since those relatively carefree days in Santa Cruz, and a lot has changed.  I’m older now.  And I’m a wife.  A mother.  A full time bureaucrat.  (Sob.)

Last night I had another night meeting for work.  Just before the meeting started at 6:30 I heard that Jack White was playing at Red Rocks (and had, in fact, played an impromptu “secret” gig at an old gas station on West Colfax just a few hours before).  Tickets were sold out at the Red Rocks website, but there were still a few available through other outlets.  I texted a few girlfriends to see if anyone was up for a last minute show, but didn’t hear back from anyone until I was already in the meeting and unable to actually purchase the tickets.  By the time the meeting got out at 8:30, all tickets were gone.

I decided to just swing by Red Rocks and take a looksie since it was only about 15 minutes away from my work.  It was super quiet and dark in the hills, the narrow road lined with parked cars on both sides forcing me to sort of creep my way towards the park.  I manged to find the find the box office where they informed me that, actually, they had one ticket left. Yes, please.

I’ve never been to a concert at Red Rocks. I’ve never been to a concert on my own before either.  And it was a blast.

Anyway, at the entrance to the amphitheater, there was a sign that said, essentially, please don’t video the show or take any photos.  Photos will be posted following the show that anyone could access and anyone spotted filming or taking photos of the show would be asked to leave.  Really, it was just a request to, you know, enjoy the show.

I loved that.  I tucked my iphone away and proceeded to just be there and took it all in.

See?  Much better pic than I could have taken on my silly little iphone anyway.

***

Which brings me back to my original thought.  We — or at least I — have gotten very into the habit of snapping pictures of things that strike my fancy and that I think would be interesting to share with others, via Facebook mostly, if I’m being honest.  That habit that I’ve gotten into of stopping while I’m in the moment to step out of that moment to capture it,  I think that very act kind of diminishes the experience somehow.

But then I got to thinking that isn’t this something that writers do, even if in a different way?  We (eek.  feels a little weird to lump myself in with this group, but I’m going to do it anyway) mine everyday life — our experiences, our thoughts, observations, the things we hear about, read about — for material.

Does this act of consciously or unconsciously being on the lookout for good stuff  diminish the experience?  Or is the unobserved life really not worth living after all?

That’s it for tonight.  Back to tuning out.  🙂