Being a Rug

To be a rug.

I laid on the floor last night after dissolving a spoonful of banana-split ice cream in my mouth, and after the taste left my tongue, I began to wonder what it would be like to be a rug. A rug does many things that for the most part go virtually unnoticed. Of course it is a dead thing, an inanimate object. But if it was alive, how would it go about it's daily routine? How would it take everything in?

Here's what I did to find out:

Lie down on the floor on your back, preferably on a hardwood floor so as to feel the ground beneath you and the barrier you provide the feet that will walk upon you. Feel what being a comfort and softness for feet is.

Now, close your eyes and listen to the room you are in. Is it a kitchen? With a tea kettle beginning to boil, a water faucet turned on rinsing dirty dishes, footsteps pattering this way and that, clinging of pans, the blunted slam of wooden cabinets and spices being opened, sprinkled, and then set aside...someone humming their favorite song?

Breath as softly and as quietly as you can. Remember...you cannot see your body, you have no limbs, you are a rug, one stretch of fabric laid on the ground. Stay still and listen to everything outside of yourself. Pay no mind to the noises you make.

Now, open your eyes, slowly, quietly, and look about your room. Blend in. Do you see people talking? Chattering? How do they look? What do their faces say? Are they burrowing their feet in your warmth while they dance along conversation? A rug could get lonely if there's no one walking around, it has too much time to think about itself, about how it could have been a flying carpet...

Look up at their eyes and tell me what they say. Are these people close? Or are they far apart? Can you see the nervousness or excitement in their eyes when they begin to laugh after an awkward sentence? You can really see the truth underneath the feet and eyes of the players, like a child.

Do not move, do not speak, watch them. Watch the room. Be still.

Can you stay long enough? For you cannot move, your head cannot turn, you only have eyes and ears but you can feel the weight pressed upon you. You live only through your observations. And though if you're lucky enough to have an owner that cleans you so you look nice, picks up the crumbs they spill on you so the roaches don't scamper over you at night, and straightens you out every time someone accidentally skews you out of your normal straight line so you feel equalized; that's all a rug could hope for. But you would have quite a bit of knowledge stored in your threats. Wear and tear, sweat and wine, and probably a lot of other things that humans disperse on their trappings.

A rug truly does have the most unobtrusive patience of anything I have ever thought about, besides perhaps a blanket that waits for you wherever you may toss it and stays there until you are cold again and need it’s warmth.

Ultimately from this experiment I realized again,
DIFFERENT VIEWPOINT = DIFFERENT THOUGHTS.