Swimming Pools & Quiet Mornings
Youthful vigor combines with an American drive to always be doing something in interesting ways. Especially when exposed in such a naked and revealing context. Placed in a fishbowl & left to swim in circles banging its head on the glass occasionally glancing out at the desert around; transported to strange surroundings which sits back and watches the murky water patiently. Waiting to see if this particular fish learns to breathe the air or just goes home after the water has all evaporated to spread tales of the crazy new world it has seen. Becoming just another abandoned fish bowl in a long line of attempts to “help.”
& that’s the importance of the cup of coffee that I contemplate over this morning (switching to a cup of hot powdered milk. There’s only so much caffeine a particular morning can tolerate.) I’m slowly learning what it means to simply sit & exist. A process started in a completely different set of rural mountains much closer to home. The ability to simple look out on the world & become comfortable in my current mental configuration. How rarely the above mentioned attributes allow me to do that. To sit and exist. Especially in this new desert. The bowl is quite small & it takes time & conscious effort to widen the circle of comfortable bounds within which I can operate successfully. Fitting bits and pieces of strange flora & fauna where a close approximation once was. A cup of instant coffee where it used to be brewed. But until a compromise between wet & dry realities is worked out most of my days are spent in various degrees of instability, navigating completely new and strange situations. It prevents the stagnation of heart & mind in narrow routines and patterns anyway…
When I’m constantly racing, as I’ve always done, the only way to really settle into a new situation is by blundering through enough that it gains a degree of familiarity. Even actively studying the culture & thinking & processing events & writing here & employing my Community Entry tools… all of that is still part of the race. Still trying to go somewhere. Still doing something. Even my cup of hot milk is doing something, but at least lifting cup to mouth and sipping is a well enough ingrained activity it distracts little from the real task of not having one. Even that particular written manifestation misses the point. Casting the morning time as an active attempt. That’s part of the trick I guess. If I’m trying, its not working. Maybe that’s why mornings such as this are still so scarce for this 23 year old American…
Originally Written 09.20.05
& that’s the importance of the cup of coffee that I contemplate over this morning (switching to a cup of hot powdered milk. There’s only so much caffeine a particular morning can tolerate.) I’m slowly learning what it means to simply sit & exist. A process started in a completely different set of rural mountains much closer to home. The ability to simple look out on the world & become comfortable in my current mental configuration. How rarely the above mentioned attributes allow me to do that. To sit and exist. Especially in this new desert. The bowl is quite small & it takes time & conscious effort to widen the circle of comfortable bounds within which I can operate successfully. Fitting bits and pieces of strange flora & fauna where a close approximation once was. A cup of instant coffee where it used to be brewed. But until a compromise between wet & dry realities is worked out most of my days are spent in various degrees of instability, navigating completely new and strange situations. It prevents the stagnation of heart & mind in narrow routines and patterns anyway…
When I’m constantly racing, as I’ve always done, the only way to really settle into a new situation is by blundering through enough that it gains a degree of familiarity. Even actively studying the culture & thinking & processing events & writing here & employing my Community Entry tools… all of that is still part of the race. Still trying to go somewhere. Still doing something. Even my cup of hot milk is doing something, but at least lifting cup to mouth and sipping is a well enough ingrained activity it distracts little from the real task of not having one. Even that particular written manifestation misses the point. Casting the morning time as an active attempt. That’s part of the trick I guess. If I’m trying, its not working. Maybe that’s why mornings such as this are still so scarce for this 23 year old American…
Originally Written 09.20.05
posted by george at 7:00 PM
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