Mar. 23rd, 2009

The moon's hanging on by a sliver and my cat, Willie seems determined to get wrapped up in one or both of the cables attached to my computer at the moment. He has somehow located and rescued his blue teaser toy, a short blue feather-boa on the end of a short plastic pink stick, from wherever I hid it. Willie is alternately wrapping himself up in cable and my foot in an effort to tear blue tufts of fur from the boa or get my attention or both, if he can manage it. Of course, this behavior alternates between obnoxious and painful, depending on his current target.

Yes, I know. I should not be home at 9:58 on a Monday. I should be out at ceilidh, dancing away my cares and worries. If not ceilidh, I should be working on the gigantic pile of grading that always seems to accumulate, despite my best intentions to get it done as it comes. Of course, intentions alone never get anything done, and so my pile of intentions grow, but my pile of actions taken...

Thoughts, however, do not pile or stack. Thoughts float. They drift and flutter. They occur. And right now my thoughts are transient. Lost travelers on a lonely highway, they stop in for a pint, ask for directions, and then move on. Oh, a few stick around, see the sights, call it the "scenic route," but they'll drift off eventually. Maybe one day they'll come back.

As I was driving into work on Wednesday, I felt something for the first time in a long time. I felt right, secure, and certain of my direction. I felt like Davis when it was home. I felt like long walks with [ profile] barelyproper doing Tarot card readings without Tarot cards. I felt like nighttime with "The Watcher." The blindfold was removed, my bonds were broken, and my heart was freed. Fate waved its magic wand, destinies collided, the planets aligned, Death took a vacation, the Universe smiled, I did something right for a change, and all was good. The koan solved, I reached a new level of enlightenment. All this as I sat at the first stoplight after my first turn off of the road I take to work. In two breaths it was gone, but there are echos.

There are no dishes in my sink and my stove is clean. My apartment is not perfect, but something is happening. I can see a desk and not a pile of papers. The papers are in my bags to go to school, still ungraded. My cat is curled up a few feet away from me. My lunch for tomorrow is almost all together. I'm getting to work a bit earlier these days.

I know it's coming again - that feeling. Things are coming together in my head. These drifting thought are coalescing into something greater than myself that is within me. I am bigger than this. I am stretching...

The cat has given up on the destruction of toy and cable and foot. Willie has instead opted for a catnap. That no-longer tiny ball of dark fur is pretending to sleep, watching me with one eye half-open, as cats will do. It's late. I think I'll join him...



August 2010


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