Moments
Well I have been sick for two days now and hating every minute of it. Yesterday was the worst of it: fever, nausea, sorethroat, aches and pains. I'm getting better but still weak and sleepy most of the time. My eyes are glued to the TV when I am awake and when I'm asleep I am dead to the world. I know this is but a moment in my life but it still sucks and I constantly remind myself what it is like when I am healthy and well; when I don't have to worry about every consant pain that is exacting itself on my muscles and body.
Before the sickness had reached a feverish pitch I had a moment that I have had often in other circumstances and I always think it is rather odd, perhaps interesting. I was at a book store, browsing through the isles and stacks of subjects I like best. When I walked down the outside of the isles I passed a small round table. The book store had many tables out with several stacked books of this sort or that, but this one was too small to hold much. Something compelled me to look down just as I started to pass the table. I found myself staring at a stack of decorated journals for sale. Only one of these caught my eye. It was a small book about 3/4 inch hieght (from table up), 10 inches long and 6 inches wide. It wasn't the size I noticed more, it was the gold filligree that was etched into the hard book with a dark red background. It was beautiful. I had traced my hand and fingers over the indented etches of the filligrees that lined around the top of the cover. Journal books have always fascinated me. I have even started a few. It wasn't that it was a journal that made the whole moment strange. It was the fact that something inside me wanted to look down at that moment and at that second to spot something that would fascinate me. I was sure that if I hadn't looked down at that moment I would have never seen the journal and I would have passed the table with out a worry or a thought several times as I walked through the book store before leaving. I wonder for hours when something like this happens if it was something else that compelled me to notice something at a certain time; as if it was a force, a spirit, or just an unconcious awareness that I am not aware of.
It's strange that it still keeps me wondering even now. I am suddenly more aware of when it happens. It happens sometimes in little slight ways; not too noticable. Other times it happens in an obvious way; too noticable to be overlooked. I have had two more events like this since the bookstore (even through my sickness); yet, nothing so vivd or of worth to note except that it happened. Perhaps it is something that happens within all humans and that we are just unaware of it in our own psyche.
Before the sickness had reached a feverish pitch I had a moment that I have had often in other circumstances and I always think it is rather odd, perhaps interesting. I was at a book store, browsing through the isles and stacks of subjects I like best. When I walked down the outside of the isles I passed a small round table. The book store had many tables out with several stacked books of this sort or that, but this one was too small to hold much. Something compelled me to look down just as I started to pass the table. I found myself staring at a stack of decorated journals for sale. Only one of these caught my eye. It was a small book about 3/4 inch hieght (from table up), 10 inches long and 6 inches wide. It wasn't the size I noticed more, it was the gold filligree that was etched into the hard book with a dark red background. It was beautiful. I had traced my hand and fingers over the indented etches of the filligrees that lined around the top of the cover. Journal books have always fascinated me. I have even started a few. It wasn't that it was a journal that made the whole moment strange. It was the fact that something inside me wanted to look down at that moment and at that second to spot something that would fascinate me. I was sure that if I hadn't looked down at that moment I would have never seen the journal and I would have passed the table with out a worry or a thought several times as I walked through the book store before leaving. I wonder for hours when something like this happens if it was something else that compelled me to notice something at a certain time; as if it was a force, a spirit, or just an unconcious awareness that I am not aware of.
It's strange that it still keeps me wondering even now. I am suddenly more aware of when it happens. It happens sometimes in little slight ways; not too noticable. Other times it happens in an obvious way; too noticable to be overlooked. I have had two more events like this since the bookstore (even through my sickness); yet, nothing so vivd or of worth to note except that it happened. Perhaps it is something that happens within all humans and that we are just unaware of it in our own psyche.