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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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Wake UP!
Meltdowner Meltdown at the gym this morning after a single set of leg presses. I'm overtraining, I know it. I know it and find myself unwilling to take time off to rest. I'm so incredibly afraid that all my hard won gains will be lost if I do...But I know I must. A dilemma I've never faced before: The difficulty posed by the need to get less exercise. Max had come with me to workout, and I didn't want him to see me have a meltdown, so I told him that I had to go to the locker room for a bit. I went in and sat in one of the changing stalls and cried. I cried and tried not to cry and cried anyway. As I was drying my sad little tears, two women came into the locker room. One of them told the other one a story. The story was that yesterday, she had lain down to take a short nap and then woke up. That's not very exciting, is it? She said though, that when she woke up, she was "totally not where I started." She was up and doing things, was going around asleep, and woke up in the middle of some task that doesn't normally include sleep. I found this strange and beautiful. "Isn't that strange?" she asked her friend rhetorically. I Know Art When I See It So I stopped by Wild Oats to buy some produce and was reaching for my first bag of baby carrots when I noticed that the produce department looked amazing. I'm serious. The vegetables were arranged perfectly. The heads of lettuce were lined up in alternating rows, the fennel was arranged in a tree formation, the carrots looked like all the pictures in children's storybooks that have little bunny characters. I looked down the row, and there was the produce guy, some young guy, arranging the eggplants. Beyond him was the regular old produce department, with its usual bit of shopped disarray. "This is beautiful," I told him. "Did you do this?" He smiled big, in a gosh-golly-just-doing-my-job kind of way. "Yeah," he said, "I just keep working." "Well it looks great," I said. He grinned again and thanked me. I know an artist when I see one. Wild Horses Surreal moment in another grocery store later that day: I was wandering the aisles with all the other shopping zombies. No one was talking. No one was making eye contact. In the produce department, there was only the sound of people tearing plastic bags off the rolls and crinkling them open. In the next aisle, some guy was sweeping coffee grounds from the coffee display. And then I remembered to notice the music. I always try to notice the music in grocery stores after the one time at the local co-op when I opened the dairy case and someone was playing my favorite Talking Heads tune (and possibly my favorite song ever This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) to the dairy products. "Home is where I want to be, pick me up and turn me 'round, I feel numb, born with a weak heart, I guess we must be having fun," David Byrne was singing to the milk and the yogurt. But today? This day, in this grocery store, Mick Jagger was singing Wild Horses. He sang, "Wild Horses couldn't drag me away...Wild, wild horses..." I woke up too then, woke up into that moment, realizing that this life, this life is composed of moments like this. This is the dream. This is the dream that is my waking life. I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
More lies:
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