Golf. It is an obsession. The balls are bleach white in the sun, blurry.
Monkeys. It is a professional concern. Writing about them. Writing about one of them. Kinda. Monkeys are thinking about many things and we don't know what.
When to hurt someone's feelings. It is a minor work matter but I don't know what to do.
Movement. Maybe I'd like to move around more. A new poledancing studio just opened here in Medford. Just saying.
How great the people are in my life. How little I tell them that.
Blue and yellow make green. How cool is that? Get some cheap ass paint and let blue and yellow do their thing. They will green for you.
Patty Griffin can consistently break my heart.
The white out tape dispenser at work. I use it to draw thick white lines which are ragged and meandering and charming.
I have too much stuff. How is that possible? Fire suppression. I've been reading more about this for some unknown reason.
A motorcycle, again. "But mom, they get like 500 miles per gallon!"
Why I have two pairs of blue tennis shoes. How did that happen? Was I crazy?
I like to think about this, think about whether this mystery can be understood. It's especially fine to luxuriate in the afterglow of finding that kind of connection.
I'm not just interested in where it comes from or what triggers it, but whether I can learn to build this deep appreciation or recognition into my life? Or is that an ugly kind of self-deception?
You might ask why I have "Wonder" as the title of this thing. Good question. I can't say. Part of me is aware that when I feel that I'm part of something, that I belong, there's a sensation that's like the opening that happens in wonder. A parallel emotion, I guess.
On Friday, Proust crept up again and waylaid me with tacos.
It is known among a few of you how lucky I've been in my food life. Solid cooks in my family using pure and fresh ingredients. Chomping on the madeline is never far from my experience. The real shock for me is that it is rarely those foods that I grew up with. More often, it's either Indian food or Mexican food that sets off a body memory that's full, fast and overwhelming. Those foods that I think of when I think of a woman I've loved.
So it was with the Taco place here in Medford. In a rush, the sweet corn tortilla, the luscious seasoned pork took me to San Diego. Took me to my past, took me to hope and love, the ocean pounding out a blessing with every wave. I was happy that my friends didn't see me tear up for a moment. Reader, I fell in. The water was all around me and I didn't even have to swim.
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.
