6274

Drizzle day. Light rain falling. Feeling out of synch. Perhaps some residual from yesterday's adjustment, but more likely just a normal funk cycle.

Dreams from last night not surfacing. Recall tiny flickers of scenes with a lot of people, but nothing concrete. Skipped yoga class this morning and substituted a chai and scramble. Did some mastication yoga.

What is the question? What am I looking for? The magic way--looking for the magical path through the mystical forest. Living on Forest overlooking a magical garden. And still there are missing elements. No clear visions. No transformative dreams.

I need not explain. I only want to vent. There are particles stuck in my throat, in my tongue, in my head, that seek determination, seek release. But I find no way to let them go, let them loose. The forest grows and closes around me. I can only see greenery. The bright luminous colors of the leaves.

I observe, but grow anxious with the seeing. Woman this morning in the coffee shop sat with two kids. The boy was perhaps 9 or 10, the girl 5 or 6. The siblings kept picking at each other, as kids will do. Except the woman seemed to direct most of her attention (negative) toward the girl. She even gave her the "evil eye" treatment. She was trying to control them both and was doing so with the old "evil eye" technique. The kids had obviously been subjected to such scrutiny before and basically ignored the woman, which only escalated everyone's actions.

I watched for a bit and then realized that their interactions, plus the din of the other people in the coffee shop, was making my internal springs coil and contract. I had to breathe and relax, clear my head of the external energies, and get on with my day. But, the woman's "evil eye" remains with me. I see the flashes of her eyes and the intensity of her gaze. Beware the Jabberwok my son, or daughter.

I actually was already in wind-up mode last night. I thought getting to bed a bit earlier would help smooth out the coiling and twisting. Sleep did help knit up the raveled sleeve, but the new day continued with a resumed set of tensions.

Empty. Empty and cleanse. Empty and extract, let go and become. I'm writing this morning from a point of reflex, of imagining. I imagine that if I write out enough words that some will eventually take form, make sense, and even perhaps be of use in some weird way. The dusky road stretches away in front of me and I see myself walking. Walking, walking, walking. With no goal in mind except to cover distance. To move from here to there, wherever those two points in space and time are mapped.

Is that it? Is that everything? No. There are always layers. There is always more. What exactly that might be is the mystery, the journey, the part that gets discovered.

As I move around each day, my attention is on the radio and the NPR broadcasts. I imagine people in other countries trying to survive as I, and others, ride around listening to descriptions of their struggles. The sun rises on a very different world here versus the one over there. What does that mean to me? It seems that it should have meaning, but I fail to find out what it might be.

So I sit and write a raft of random thoughts. A miscellany of words and abstractions that lead to no particular conclusions, resolutions or actions. A flood of syllables, signifying nothing. That is not my hope, but it may very well be my reality.

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Just met with J regarding his games and resource needs. He's got orders and needs the cash to turn on the manufacturing. He has a long way to go to make it happen, but he's determined.

Found myself drifting away as we talked. My body kept tensing and gripping. It's cold in here today and I'm not comfortable being cold. But I was also just hypertensing. I kept feeling like I was on a road where I couldn't stop or turn around. I rolled forward at ever increasing speeds, but had no way to brake, slow down or leave the route. I see myself sitting on a road that is moving steadily upwards so I can't see what's in the distance. I can only see the immediate road and fields of high grass off to each side.

I feel out of control and also have a desire to get myself back in synch, back in touch. With what is the question. Not sure what I'm wanting to be or do. Life today is cloudy like the skies. A steady rain falls and paints the garden with its dampness. The sounds of the rainfall echo off of the gutters and awnings. The rain makes ticking sounds as it hits metal and leaf.

I'm running the heater to help knock off the chill that permeates the room. It makes a lot of noise that is pleasant to not hear when it can be turned off. I feel groggy and dissembled. About time for another chai and perhaps a bite to eat. Back to the basics. Food and drink filling up an emptiness that goes beyond the physical.

I'm stopping here for today. Will head out soon to pick up laundry, get a chai, check for mail, take a short nap, and get ready to go dancing tonight. Friday blues, you come my way, makes me want to go out and play...