Treat
There are pillows on my lap, an icepack on my inner leg, guacamole in my belly, and the World’s Best Dogfriend at my side.
I’ve given Youtube some Benny Goodman songs and am letting its algorithm do its thing; robots make great djs. The cicadas and crickets seem a little louder than usual because the windows are open. September is a great month in Iowa.
I always start Sundays (my favorite day) slowly and try not to give myself a strict agenda. Interestingly enough, I believe it’s often when I’m most productive. It’s nice to end a day feeling both rested and accomplished.
I’ve been stretching a lot. And meditating. I think of meditating as mental stretching. They’re both good for me as they require patience, consistency, and acceptance. You can’t force your way through. In fact, it’s the letting go that creates the space that becomes “progress.” It’s funny how the self, physical or emotional, never stops trying to snap back to its original settings.
For the most part, I believe I’ve reconciled my past and present. I like to think of myself as a nesting doll, each new layer containing all the previous ones and all of them sharing a handful of key attributes - over-the-top being one of them. 😊
I still think of the world with youthful enthusiasm and hope but, I must be honest, lately it’s harder than it used to be. I have tried to center my meditation around healing, around the idea of, idk, exorcising or processing global hurt. I rationalize it as wanting to take reactive intensity out of the world, becoming some sort of human air purifier, a transformational conduit sucking up bad vibes and filtering them out, leaving equilibrium instead.
It’s a fantasy, I know, and a lot of ego. But I do think it’s more active than “hopes and prayers.” I think it gives me a larger reserve of patience and compassion in my day to day interactions.
My spiritual beliefs are nebulous at best and sometimes I question whether this is self-serving new age nonsense or appropriated mysticism, or just a cheap ploy to sidestep guilt because I’m no longer as active in protests or other direct actions as I once was. I’m not not doing them, either. It’s just, this is the work that feels right, right now.
Grandpa Moose looks sleepy and grumpy and adorable. He is like a living throw blanket. He is perfection. One of these years he will bounce and I will grieve like I never have and it will be sad and beautiful and hard and I will be a fucking mess. But, for now, we’re here together. He reminds me where we’ve come from and keeps me optimistic about what’s next.