I have a problem here. And it's not you. At the center of my mind, there's a blank spot. I've stared at the abyss lurking in my innards and watched my clever-most thoughts slide over the edge into the darkness like water over Niagara falls. There should be a Viagra for the mind. I would like to get those sharp little thoughts back up again. You can do it little chicky. Bawk, bawk, bawk. Or should I say...cock-a-doodle-do?
As the work on my dissertation slides into the past - my reflections on vampire plants and other varieties of the dangerous sort - I'm left with the blank spot. It's the part of me lost to the past - to time - to my conscious mind. That part still exists somewhere that is inaccessible to my waking life.
At the end of a long Friday, I sat on my couch with a plate of the food I like best. I noticed that avocado cleanses the palate and the salt in cheese feels like a needle straight to the brain. While eating, I thought of a poem by William Carlos Williams, "The Red Wheelbarrow". His poem, difficult to interpret, seems to claim the sensuous moment over the reflective. His descriptions of the wheelbarrow and the chicken are the sensuous moments. When we really pay attention to what we see, hear, smell, feel and taste, the blank spot becomes a window onto the world. The endless circle of the past, present and future begins then to flow easily.
Time for popcorn.
As the work on my dissertation slides into the past - my reflections on vampire plants and other varieties of the dangerous sort - I'm left with the blank spot. It's the part of me lost to the past - to time - to my conscious mind. That part still exists somewhere that is inaccessible to my waking life.
At the end of a long Friday, I sat on my couch with a plate of the food I like best. I noticed that avocado cleanses the palate and the salt in cheese feels like a needle straight to the brain. While eating, I thought of a poem by William Carlos Williams, "The Red Wheelbarrow". His poem, difficult to interpret, seems to claim the sensuous moment over the reflective. His descriptions of the wheelbarrow and the chicken are the sensuous moments. When we really pay attention to what we see, hear, smell, feel and taste, the blank spot becomes a window onto the world. The endless circle of the past, present and future begins then to flow easily.
Time for popcorn.
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