I am at the doctor’s office. I dont like going to the doctor although I like my doctor very much. She’s very compassionate, empathetic, takes time to talk to me. More important, she listens to me.
But still the idea that she will find something wrong (more than the minor complaint that brings me to the office) always gives me significant pause.
Then there is the idea that she might tell me that my health might require me to do something that i don’t want or am not ready to do.
I guess i better just get over it. I hate not feeling well.
I drove 14 hours this summer on my way to a week’s vacation. The beginning– let’s say first four hours–were easy. My mind was awash with how far I’d gone, what I’d do when I’d get there, am I hungry, am I thirsty, am I good on gas, look at that car, this road is cool. The end –let’s say the last 2 hours –were about being close to the goal, only 2 more hours, do I have to use the bathroom, should I fill up before I get there so I don’t have to stop too soon on the way out, I hope I brought everything.
The middle part is a blur and it’s in that middle part where I imagine my mind was as close to quiet as it was going to get. By that middle part, not much about the journey was going to change, I just had to keep driving; keep my mileage steady, I wasn’t hungry, thirsty, or needing a break.
I feel that way right now. Like the brain is chugging away on its rails, doesn’t need a lot of watching, fiddling with, or tending. Yet, I get the sense that the light and sound that I sort of hear off in the distance might be important but all I can do is keep chugging on my present course and adjust when I have more details.
That is all.
If I knew how to play guitar, write songs, and sing, that would be the name of my first Album.
I don’t know why I am so caught up in ‘Fat’ lately but i can’t seem to get it off my mind as a word or as a state of my body.