Trials of a soon-to-be-hyper-focused
Oops…45 minutes late. Would they bounce her from the 5 am club?
Too late to worry, too early to know.
She stared at the Hudson River, mimicking the rock of a tugboat and the wink of the sun, the light leaping from glass tower to river. The grey waters glistened as though the river was beaming in its sunbath. She wondered whether her spine could ever sway as calmly as the reflection of the glass tower. For anyone just a tad bipolar, swaying your spine from side to side with the ease of a snake can snap you into the positive.
She closed her eyes slowly, consciously turning off the electricity, the excitement of her senses. Like flipping a light switch, she was stunned momentarily by the dark, realizing that deliberate shut-eye gestures are ironically a wake-up call.
Am I dancing in the moment? she wondered; bouncing between the known and the unknown, the past and the soon-to-be-past known as the present.
Is this some kind of heaven? She had paused the noise in her head. Imagine being able to hear the mechanics of compressing thoughts into words. Maybe AI robots will teach us how to hear/watch/observe the working factory of our minds. Perhaps we will hum along.
“Being without self-censure” sounds like an ad for a drug. Recapture the innocence of a newborn; ride each breath with the brazen delight of a girl screaming on a roller coaster on her first date.
In with the good air, out with the bad, she attempted to unfurl, unwind, and undo whatever needs to be undone.
If only she could exhale all her cobwebs, her detritus, and her vile stupidity!
Just watch that thought pass by.
Inhale 3, exhale 3….
The hairs in a nose work non-stop, all that filtering. How often are the hairs replaced, she wondered. Is mucus a sign of over-production? How many hairs are there? Does a chipmunk hear the wind in their nose, like a breeze on pine needles?
Just let it go. No need to google nasal filtration systems right now…
She danced with her breath, aware suddenly of the thump of her heart. Her back tensed at the crest of the breath, pausing the exhale. Her chest pressed down, forcing air out. The heart is so much easier to follow than the breath. Why don’t we get the advice to listen to the beat of the heart — because the breath demands a longer attention span?
Oie….Can we please get on with the business of not thinking and dodge the circular, argumentative nature of every question?
Ok. You. Now…just flush out anything remotely unbecoming.
She sank slightly. Her eyes flickered. She gazed at the back wall of her mind. For a flash, her conscious and unconscious snuggled together, enjoying cerebral adventures of a hallucinatory kind. Duality, be gone! Bring those two sides of yourself, the Angel and her nasty, bad-ass, Evil twin. Let’s get single-minded for a fraction of a second, for the thrill of it.
With that, she gave birth to an exhale coming from so deep within, her tailbone swung. Her vertebra sang! Her chakras spun.
Nina Simone sings for me! “It’s a new day, a new dawn….”
She felt her cheeks flush; her essence shining like a filament!
Oh, shut up! Quit the self-congratulatory and self-deprecating commentary. Dive off the cliff of the known and fly. Exhale all that, all of that…
“Robert Greene’s Daily Law: ‘Think of the mind as a river: the faster it flows, the better it keeps up with the present and responds to change. Obsessional thoughts and past experiences are like boulders or mud in this river.’”
So all I have to do is dissolve those boulders and I’ll be free?
Could one really wipe one’s spirit clean, as easily as a child brushing plaque off their teeth?
Now, where was I? Pshhh.
The muscles in my lower back just relaxed...