Noise pollution. It creeps through the cracks, it comes from all around. You can stop some of it, you can ask it to stop - but, when it doesn't you are left fleeing your own sanctuary.
Now I am just sitting in my car. The clustered noise of the outside world is easy to ignore. There is too much going on to pick one sound to focus. Outside on the crowded streets of the city, amongst the cars, radios, construction and loud conversationalists it is quiet.
Flight
The time has come!
Soon I will be traveling, spending time in airports.
I write/read when I travel. I am solitary when I am amongst the crowds of people.
This will be good for my writing.
Soon I will be traveling, spending time in airports.
I write/read when I travel. I am solitary when I am amongst the crowds of people.
This will be good for my writing.
Polishing A Tile
In the quiet the calm breathes clarity.
Each exhale is followed by a moment of silence and while waiting to naturally fill my lungs I sense the peace that follows order.
Snow, as it drifts, sprinkles the ground with dashing opportunities.
Some will stick.
Some will freeze.
Others will melt before reaching its potential.
The point is to defy gravity, channel your limitations to be boundless, open yourself to the freedom that only the wind has mastered.
I am limited. Each breath, my tiny rivalry with the blowing sky, affects only my immediate surroundings.
Only the present.
The hand cannot grasp itself.
If I sit quietly enough, contribute skillfully with the world around me, accepting the wind as it is, allowing the snow to do as it pleases - then maybe I will hear the sound of the one handed clap.
Each exhale is followed by a moment of silence and while waiting to naturally fill my lungs I sense the peace that follows order.
Snow, as it drifts, sprinkles the ground with dashing opportunities.
Some will stick.
Some will freeze.
Others will melt before reaching its potential.
The point is to defy gravity, channel your limitations to be boundless, open yourself to the freedom that only the wind has mastered.
I am limited. Each breath, my tiny rivalry with the blowing sky, affects only my immediate surroundings.
Only the present.
The hand cannot grasp itself.
If I sit quietly enough, contribute skillfully with the world around me, accepting the wind as it is, allowing the snow to do as it pleases - then maybe I will hear the sound of the one handed clap.
Snowstorm
I don't feel the cold.
It's a state of mind, unpleasant, distance, absent - not tangible. I cannot grasp the cold, I cannot kick the cold or ignore it.
I'm beginning to feel that the cold builds from within, deep inside , so it is a part of you, a part that you can't feel.
The cold is felt mostly in the heart. That flutter as the muscles in your body kinetically twitch and vibrate as a means to keep warm. When your heart does it feels like its skipping beats, and it is, and the euphoria that follows is almost breathless.
Or maybe that's just the heart murmur and your already delayed heart begins to get annoyed at the additional catchup.
I don't know how to feel the cold. But I want desperately to feel warm.
It's a state of mind, unpleasant, distance, absent - not tangible. I cannot grasp the cold, I cannot kick the cold or ignore it.
I'm beginning to feel that the cold builds from within, deep inside , so it is a part of you, a part that you can't feel.
The cold is felt mostly in the heart. That flutter as the muscles in your body kinetically twitch and vibrate as a means to keep warm. When your heart does it feels like its skipping beats, and it is, and the euphoria that follows is almost breathless.
Or maybe that's just the heart murmur and your already delayed heart begins to get annoyed at the additional catchup.
I don't know how to feel the cold. But I want desperately to feel warm.
Slow Down
I like to think that the car horn negates equality. If we were all created equal that means that we would all get along, share consciousness and wouldn't need to slam on our car horns. Because, as equals, life would just sync.
An elderly woman demonstrated to me today that this is not the case as she honked at cars (at yellow lights) and pedestrians (in the crosswalk) for not moving fast enough. To this woman, this short, prunishly wrinkled woman, the world is not equal.
I also think that if you have so many wrinkles on an oddly tight face that it is impossible to tell if your eyes are opened, then you should not be allowed to drive a giant S.U.V.
Scary ass Grandma.
An elderly woman demonstrated to me today that this is not the case as she honked at cars (at yellow lights) and pedestrians (in the crosswalk) for not moving fast enough. To this woman, this short, prunishly wrinkled woman, the world is not equal.
I also think that if you have so many wrinkles on an oddly tight face that it is impossible to tell if your eyes are opened, then you should not be allowed to drive a giant S.U.V.
Scary ass Grandma.
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