Falling

"...as surely as if we had already fallen from the cliff"

[Practice with us this Sunday: contact@stemless.org]

You scan the world and name it all, even if not in words. My shoe. Notebook. Man. Yellow. Silver. Phone.

If I see something and don’t immediately know what it is, I double-take reflexively, no matter how irrelevant. What was that!

Try to overhear a conversation spoken in your dominant language and not comprehend it.

I just traveled so I’m a little more aware than usual of the disappearances and the grabbing mind-hands. I flew to Europe and met a ton of people, most of whom I’ve never met and will never meet again. I’m on another train, going to Portland to meet with a doctor to maybe find out why my joints are slowly filling with hourglass sand. I look up from my notebook and identify my surroundings. Blue seats. Hispanic man. Black mask. Women in red clogs. Old man with Kindle. The loudness is the train. The tenderness of my hand is not new, I know this too.

I woke up angry at my partner about something that happened between us during our brief togetherness between trips. I woke up blaming him and trying to catch back the blame like a three-year-old running into a busy street. I tried to pack in forgiveness. I forgive myself for blaming you, I forgive my anger, I forgive you for—, I forgive myself for needing forgiveness.

Woman in red clogs, writing a list from her phone, woman who has more valuable things to do than me, woman who has more value than me.

Notice how no matter how much you establish your life, it is constantly dissolving into the next thing. The best moment, the worst moment… Nothing sticks at all. Nothing is sticky.