April 08, 2009

Vacation Meditation

I'm on this lovely little getaway, which I believe helps me to delve back into my writing brain. This is so much easier to do when I am not faced with the daily tasks of teaching, dinner, laundry, putting out the trash (hope jamwall remembers to do so in my absence ... ::knock knock:: cutie? couldja get on that?) So I've just been going on lovely little walks, and getting massages, and hot-tubbing, and dining. It is so lovely. All sort of thoughts creep in... float along on my stream of consciousness, won't you now?


I use "lovely" over-much in my speech. What a lovely word it is.

I went into this tiny, cluttered rock shop and got sucked into a conversation
with the proprietor, who would not let me get a word or an excuse in... it was all about his past teaching career and how strict he was about kids using his equipment and how board of education kids get special treatment; all the stuff I'm trying to get away from. Talking, talking, talkinggggggg. I stayed the requisite polite amount of time and then began inching towards the door. All the while my brain was screaming, get out! get out! oh Goddddd, I'm going to die here. I was imagining my mummified remains being found hundreds of years in the future, one desiccated hand clinging to a coffee cup, the other to a doorknob. I was saved by my cell phone ringing, and I became one of those people, the ones who grab their cell phones and run out of a store. I only to pretended to answer, because I didn't want to talk to that person, either.

I really don't want to talk to anyone, sometimes.

Don't you feel just a tiny bit superior to the disgusting slobs around you when you return your cart to the grocery store paddock instead of leaving it astray in the parking lot? I know I do. My nodding benevolence was not affected in the least (well, perhaps slightly...) by the fact that the only reason why I returned the cart was that the cart lackey was out and about in the parking lot, collecting errant carts, and I wanted him to see just what a good citizen I was. Not like those others.

I'm always fascinated by blue toilet water, and by the alluring shade of green that it turns after I tinkle in it. Not that I ever looked, no no. I'm not disgusting. I'm just speculating. It would be OK if I looked though, wouldn't it?

It's difficult to be truly honest.

There is a little tot screaming so loudly outside that I feel compelled to go to the window and see what is the matter with it. I once heard a horrible story about a baby screaming in its crib and the mother ignoring it, ignoring, ignoring ... and then finally checking, only to discover that the family pet raccoon had eaten the baby's fingers. Horrifying. Now whenever I hear a baby screaming I yell, No, Bandit, no! Down, Bandit! Bad, bad Mr. McStripes!

I'm generally afraid of being partially eaten. I also read a Reader’s Digest Drama in Real Life story about a woman whose face was eaten by a cougar. I believe I have written of this before. Now when I walk in the woods alone, which is seldom (because of said cougar), I find myself touching my cheeks and wondering if my face is tasty. I do have a little bit of extra fat here & there, especially on my tushie, and I think a cougar would prefer that to my face. But you never know. I don't know from cougars. I believe I would much prefer to be swallowed whole, like Jonah. And Pinocchio. Even at age 7 I recognized that Pinocchio couldn't possibly be true. It wasn't the woodenness of the lad that told me; it was the fact that while he was in the whale’s stomach he remained completely intact; even I know that he would be wallowing in acids strong enough to burn a hole in a rug.

Why, when Biology teachers speak of stomach acid (HCl), is it always a rug that gets a hole burned in it?

And why oh why do I feel driven to sniff every little item that I put into the laundry, and then sniff again when I take them out? Why can't I just trust?

It is difficult to let go and just trust. Leap, and the net appears.

It would be delightful to try that, just once. I guess once would be all the chance I get, if it isn't true.

2 comments:

jamwall said...

You're tasty all over.

NOM..NOM...NOM...NOM

...


nom...

nom

madge said...

you are lovely / i miss your writing brain.