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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Shallow Demons: A Walking Meditation
Walk Away I did not go to meet him. Not that the plan was ever a real firm one, but I could have firmed it up and didn't. Instead, I went to Target and purchased a sportsbra, some unscented lotion, nail polish remover, the new Missy Elliott CD. That was my Friday night. I probably could've gotten drunk and/or laid, but there it is. I'm a good girl with plenty of support, all moisturized, with cutely painted toenails and some tunes to jam to. (Does anyone say "jam to" anymore? God, I'm getting old.) Walk It Off, You Pistol Packing Mama, You This morning there was a long walk with Judi, Max, and a friend of Judi's. Miscellaneous facts about Judi's friend? She's a watercolorist. She's married to a man named Bill. And she carries a gun with her wherever she goes. We walk through some sketchy parts of town, and Judi used to work as a nurse in a local "mental health" facility, so every once in a while, we run across someone (who is living) on the street who she knows. Last week it was a schizophrenic Native American woman whose name I can't recall. This week it was a dazed, dreadlocked man who looked as though he hadn't eaten in a month. She tells me their stories, about their lives on the streets, their unwillingness to deceive. And she's tough but compassionate. And me? I feel detached. And I wonder about my detachment. I don't feel the need to do anything about seeing these people with their horrible and wasted lives. And I wonder whether this numbness is a part of who I am or if it's been grafted onto who I am. (And does it matter?) It's not that I don't care or that I feel hopeless. Sometimes, I just don't feel. And I don't know how deep that goes yet. Afraid Of Your Own Shallows? I got home from my walk, ate some fat free cottage cheese and frozen blueberries and smoked a cigarette. Then I came to the gym (which is where I am now). I worked out my legs.
More lies:
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