Survival Instincts

http://polaroid41.com/survival-instincts/

Friday, January 22nd, 2021

We publish our ‘Polaroids’ every Tuesday. Sometimes we get a head start on the Friday before or over the weekend, but often we are scurrying around on Monday night and Tuesday morning trying to bang something out. This is a passion project, there’s nobody but us holding us to the Tuesday deadline...but that doesn’t make it any less urgent or important. In fact, quite the contrary.

So, two weeks ago when Marc called me and said, ‘I’m out this week,’ I knew it was a bad sign. ‘Shoot,’ I said. ‘Are you ok?’ ‘I am now,’ he replied. ‘Ok,’ a breath of relief, ‘So what’s up?’ He explained to me that at 9am the dust had settled from the morning tornado of getting his three daughters out the door to school on time, and he sat down at his computer to write his ‘polaroid.’ He sat there and looked at the blank screen. 9:15. 9:30. 10:15. Nothing. Not even a glimmer of a ‘scoubidou.’ He said he felt a sadness welling up. The sadness that he manages to ignore when he’s busy helping his neighbor cut wood or blow-drying his daughter’s hair. It’s the sadness of feeling empty, flat. I know it well. We’ve talked about it. The idea with our weekly ‘polaroids’ is to share a snapshot of life, a moment that made us sit up and pay attention, that made us feel something… and with life currently so small and restricted, it’s admittedly harder and harder to find a ‘polaroid’ every week. The same week when Marc opted out, I myself had nothing as of Monday morning. But Monday afternoon I got to do a show and boom, I found my ‘polaroid.’ I went out and did something, had an experience, and I found my moment.

Marc continued, ‘At 11am I knew I had to go or else the wave of sadness was going to pull me totally under. I got in my car and...’

At which point my brain did that thing where in a split second, it fills in the end of the sentence. In the space of an instant, multiple scenarios whipped past my mind’s eye: I imagined him driving and driving, leaving his sadness on the open road. Or grabbing running shoes and driving the few miles to the head of a forest trail nearby and maybe running to escape the sadness. Or maybe he went to a store to buy some comfort food or wine? A tub of ice cream? Or perhaps he drove to see an old friend, someone to talk to and confide in?

Then he finished the sentence, ‘...I went to the bookstore.’

I burst out laughing. ‘The bookstore?!’ ‘Yeah! I bought a pile of books. No ‘polaroid’ for me this week but, whew. I feel so much better.’

There you have it ladies and gentlemen, in his time of need he ran to the bookstore. What a beautiful instinct.

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Polaroid photo and full text available at: http://polaroid41.com/survival-instincts/