It’s difficult to see how much the sense of self is tied to surroundings, until of course you begin the process of departure, whether it’s a trip, or travel, or a birth or a death. Family and friends most viscerally part of your stone and sinew; but structures and walkways, weather and seasons, even the most subtle of daily habits are all you, all me.
“The Moment Before Knowing” by Brooke @ DeviantArt.com
I value the zen aspects of departures and arrivals enough that I have found myself performing this little ritual of deconstruction many times in my life. I am drawn to the reunion this peeling away for layers provides: it’s as though I wipe my eyes after a plunge in deep water, or rub the sleep out of them after some hallucinogenic dream. Remembering how important you people are to me — sorry if I had forgotten in the mad rush of Taking Care of Everything (most of which of little importance) — is the same as remembering how dear life or the world or this very moment with pen in hand will be, now is, then has been.
These last days prior to travel are condensed, as though each day were gold (or lead) (or gold) (or lead), and all the little tasks that have been gathering over time and peeping for attention have now mashed together into such a small window of time… it’s as if their sounds, which already filled a world, have now been funneled into a tiny, tiny space: that’s a lot of shouting, World! Could you tone it down a bit, World? Eh?? Sorry, SORRY, CAN’T HEAR THE SINGER FOR THE CHORUS! WHAT??
That’s all right. Lists are made to collect what tumbles out of control, whether held on paper, in bits-and-bytes, or sloshing around the sea of electrons in the mind.
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2015