Obsession

With obsession, there really isn't a Part 2. It's all Part One, first chapter and last chapter. Those of you who find themselves on a track know what I'm talking about. On waking, in dreaming a luscious scene replays and it's difficult not to watch yet again.

Melodramatic, aren't I?

A positive change of thyroid juice has transformed me into my old, energetic self. This includes a return to my ability to obsess. In my old days, my obsessions were often destructive due to my near complete inability to keep the record from skipping and repeating. Honestly, I always thought that there was something wrong with me. Well, there was but nothing that I couldn't have addressed with the proper insight.

I didn't understand that I could form a relationship with my mind rather than be its mule. The thing upstairs pointed the way and I followed. When I resisted, the discomfort usually got me right in line. Most often, the jockey kept the horse at a twitchy standstill. What a way to live. This, I am happy to say, is no longer the case.

After my physical renaissance, my mental upgrade followed. It's a blessing not to be physically crippled. It's a blessing not to be mentally crippled. I can thank myself for working out how to live with a busy brain. It's taken five years of poking around my sore spots but I've had a couple fundamental insights about how to live. Oh yeah, nothing to it!

You three readers have read about them, pretty standard realizations that the buddha's been offering for thousands of years. Anyone can sign on and I did.

The good news is that although the volume's been turned up, I'm as relaxed as I possibly can be, getting stronger and happier and more obsessed. I suspect that I'll have to tease out what the obsession means eventually. For now, I'm happy to have my old speedy brain back. But I will not let that gray bastard beat me like a rented mule. Instead of it slapping me around, I'm working on a choreography and it seems to be intrigued in the possibility.