There is this body that I inhabit. Sometimes it feels like I’m not really in my body. Like there is an experience in this body that I’m not really having, that I’m only observing. Its as if my consciousness is elsewhere.

Where do I go?

Somewhere more comfortable? Somewhere more interesting?

Sometimes when I get out of bed there is this sinking/anxious feeling like “blah, another day, another span of time to fill” and I don’t quite know how to bring my self through my body to the present moment. 

If I’m in my body then where is my mind?

If I’m in my mind where is my body?

Action/Being/Being in action/

I’m washing dishes now and now I’m washing dishes

Or

I’m making breakfast now and now I’m making breakfast

Maybe witnessing what I’m doing doesn’t have to lead to getting lost in the action. I see what I am doing and maybe I can just see what I’m doing. Maybe I don’t have to disconnect from my body into some ethereal intellect— where my mind is on a separate track from my body entirely. I’m taking a shower but really I’m thinking of the book I read last night and the conversation with my mother the other day and and and and shit! where’s the shampoo!?

Conversely, I wonder how to move my consciousness while I’m doing an action so I’m not completely lost in the action and the action only. The quality of the soap I’m using while I’m washing dishes. The smell of the butter melting for cooking an egg.

When I open my mind to what is happening in the present, it can feel overwhelming. There is so much there if I become aware of my senses.

Perhaps its learning to discern when I can have that super focus eye—of seeing what I’m doing, witnessing as I am doing the action and when I can just do the thing without getting lost. Like adjusting the frame for a photo.

Then again sometimes I think this is all a little abstract. Maybe I should go outside and throw a ball or something.

my heroine

my hero

fierce!

its rain rain and gray

I am huddled up inside

with my new used sweater

I got at the salvation army today

its warm and striped and slightly faded but it fits nice.

bubbling up through the rain barrel

bubbling along the window pane

the warble of water

from organismic. patti smith and robert maplethorpe. they were such inspiring characters. I remember reading patti’s autobiography when I was traveling in Ireland and being intrigued by her Rimbaud shenanigans. I think her poetry is best when she reads it out loud.

(via hamster-baby)

this is a future version of my self as an introverted and bookish old man.

smoldering amidst the yellowed news

HILARIOUS