Broken Rhythm
I JUST HAVEN'T BEEN up to it.
I had abandoned this blog for two whole weeks. And I've since been attempting to create a moment of zen out of my laziness. But nary a whiff of anything. Nothing percolating...nothing bubbling up, nothing trickling down. I feel strangely empty and emptied.
No sparkle, no fizz. Dim as an expiring bulb. Flat as a pancake. Hook me up to an EKG machine and likely, it'll show my neurons have also flatlined.
This would have nothing to do with the recent bloodletting, now would it??
Well, some of it, 'Yes'
To my everlasting disadvantage and detriment, I almost always function almost entirely on rhythm (or rhyme). That being my first real health scare, it spooked the bejeebers out of me. My heart, it leapt into my throat. Made me like a guppy out of the fishbowl. For a while I was frantically gulping at the air. I completely lost it, my momentum. It made me miss a few steps, lose my place.
And some of it, 'No'.
I have a few things on my mind about my life. Decisions, decisions, decisions. All of them are pressing. Each second that ticks brings me closer to a deadline. Or a point of no return.
Procrastination. Like I keep telling myself, the number one way of dying from some illness is "putting off" going to the doctor. Ditto indecision. The surest way to becoming a boiled frog.
Will-O'-The-Wisp. That whimsical carousel going round and round and round, and the ponies jauntily rising up and down, gently up and down. Footloose and fancy free. Deceptively carefree. But the deeper, shadowy dimensions are truly and seriously daunting. Definitely not for play-play.
... and I am definitely not one of those people who has blogger phases. Can't (nay, won't) claim to be afflicted with that high falutin blogger's block. I just have a life and life phases…nothing is going on that is all that blogworthy, really. Not the santan-free Indian black pepper chix curry recipe that turned out superbly, to finger-lickin' compliments from family and friends. Or the Pilates instructor who tried to kill me.
Or the rat that turned up at one of my dead mailboxes, again.
I had abandoned this blog for two whole weeks. And I've since been attempting to create a moment of zen out of my laziness. But nary a whiff of anything. Nothing percolating...nothing bubbling up, nothing trickling down. I feel strangely empty and emptied.
No sparkle, no fizz. Dim as an expiring bulb. Flat as a pancake. Hook me up to an EKG machine and likely, it'll show my neurons have also flatlined.
This would have nothing to do with the recent bloodletting, now would it??
Well, some of it, 'Yes'
To my everlasting disadvantage and detriment, I almost always function almost entirely on rhythm (or rhyme). That being my first real health scare, it spooked the bejeebers out of me. My heart, it leapt into my throat. Made me like a guppy out of the fishbowl. For a while I was frantically gulping at the air. I completely lost it, my momentum. It made me miss a few steps, lose my place.
And some of it, 'No'.
I have a few things on my mind about my life. Decisions, decisions, decisions. All of them are pressing. Each second that ticks brings me closer to a deadline. Or a point of no return.
Procrastination. Like I keep telling myself, the number one way of dying from some illness is "putting off" going to the doctor. Ditto indecision. The surest way to becoming a boiled frog.
Will-O'-The-Wisp. That whimsical carousel going round and round and round, and the ponies jauntily rising up and down, gently up and down. Footloose and fancy free. Deceptively carefree. But the deeper, shadowy dimensions are truly and seriously daunting. Definitely not for play-play.
... and I am definitely not one of those people who has blogger phases. Can't (nay, won't) claim to be afflicted with that high falutin blogger's block. I just have a life and life phases…nothing is going on that is all that blogworthy, really. Not the santan-free Indian black pepper chix curry recipe that turned out superbly, to finger-lickin' compliments from family and friends. Or the Pilates instructor who tried to kill me.
Or the rat that turned up at one of my dead mailboxes, again.
A perky picker upper from Shakespeare's MacBeth':
"Come what may, time and hour runs through the roughest day."
posted by percolator | 3:18 PM
5 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Jeez..
Ai yoh you ae hit by spam.Whatever it maybe the reasons for the whole 2 weeks. don't stop blogging, it would be a shame.*because your writings are ........}:-. Life is short do what you have to do.
Cheers and take care.
th,
you're being unsually cryptic about my writing. But I will just assume, that as usual, you said something nice... thanx mate! lol!
And I have fixed the rat infestation, I hope. :)
cheers!
Zen isn't the only way to abstract thinking. It's one of the methods towards promoting understanding of things intangible.
"More things in heaven and earth than are thought of in your philosophy, dear Horatio", as Hamlet puts it.
~wits0~
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