I think it's funny how the process of thinking can be described as analogous to the process of digesting. For example, one of my pathology professors likes to say that there's no use sitting there straining, looking like you're about to defecate the answer. Excessive verbosity is termed "logorrhea." "To ruminate," literally what a cow does to grass, can be a synonym for "to ponder." And right now I think I'm mentally constipated. There's all this shit that's building up, and yet I can't get anything out.
So I am trying to live in the present. It seems to be the only way to stay sane. To not have expectations. To not set my heart on any of my plans. If I think too far ahead, then I start feeling empty, so I don't. Nothing exist except right now. Even writing this down opens up too much space for my mind to wander around in.
But I just wanted to make sure. In 35 days I'll need to push back the walls, take my space suit off, and unwrap myself from this hermetically sealed mental enclosure, and start feeling again. I must say, this numbness is very comfortable, the closest to contentment that I've been in quite a while, but I know that when I leave this cocoon, I will still have to face the onslaught otherwise known as reality. I just need to keep that idea in the back of my head, to germinate and to grow roots, lying dormant in the sterile darkness, so that hopefully when the time finally comes, I'll have some leaves with which I can catch the sunlight.
Here's to hope and the Art of Not Wanting. To steal a phrase, passive-aggression in action.
e-mail: aswang@earthlink.net
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