 |
it's true. Every morning my alarm goes off at six o'clock. I roll over, turn it off and go back to sleep until seven or seven thirty. Why do I set it for six? So I might get up and meditate. Why do I get up at seven? Because it's soooo nice to sleep.
This morning I had a weird but telling dream. It reflected some big bad wolf memories and metaphors that have been on my mind and in my guts. It showcased a feeling of impotence and highlighted loss.
It made me want to call an old friend to say, "See, you're still part of me."
But the way things are, I won't be calling.
My mind remembers so perfectly the contours of a comforting body, the vibration of a voice, the feeling of a place. We all have those things inside us, preserved and filed away to be brought out in our dreams.
Well, snap. It's time to go to work. This morning it is raining, the first rainy morning bike ride to work in what is without doubt a long line of them.
Fingers wrapped around cork handles with knuckles turning a little blue, a little white
the swish of plastic covered thighs
The whirr of a freshly oiled chain
aww yes, this is the stuff life is made of
9:47 PM
Powered by  | | English | | Albanian | | Arabic | | Bulgarian | | Catalan | | Chinese | | Croatian | | Czech | | Danish | | Dutch | | Estonian | | Filipino | | Finnish | | French | | Galician | | German | | Greek | | Hebrew | | Hindi | | Hungarian | | Indonesian | | Italian | | Japanese | | Korean | | Latvian | | Lithuanian | | Maltese | | Norwegian | | Polish | | Portuguese | | Romanian | | Russian | | Serbian | | Slovak | | Slovenian | | Spanish | | Swedish | | Thai | | Turkish | | Ukrainian | | Vietnamese |
|