Sunday, September 17, 2017
My sister says I should meditate then write down my thoughts...
My sister says when I meditate, to write them down.
Kinda. In brief:
I have thoughts.
She said write them down.
Mental sketch book, she said.
(miss her -and- the girls)*
My sister says there is a place you can go when you meditate that feels like home.
(no wait that's me)
Maybe she knows but I don't know she does.
What I know she doesn't:
I walked Suzie the dog this morning and visited her in my mind (my sister not Suzie)
at the house. And the garden. And the basement with the sheer curtains.
(so lovely with the light coming through)
(making me feel right at home)
In my mind.
Dad, too - in that loop (time suspended) where family-arity abounds.
(home, after all - the opposite of strange)
We jostle and peck like baby birds in the nest
probing for weakness
My sister has thoughts.
But I cannot hear them.
(jagged edges torn from colored paper, layered...
...the whuff and chuck of dark soil turned)
But sometimes I can.
In my mind.
*the boys too, but you know how boys are - taught to survive by affecting stoicism; I too am one of those.