Eye
The contemplation of stillness is a noisy affair. My brain goes #stillness #bestill #hymns #findgod, and then it starts singing..
Be still and know that I am god
Be still and know that I am god
Be still and know that I am god
Be still and know that I am god
..like I used to sing in church on Sunday mornings. I can’t even speed it up to get it over with; I have to brainsing all four lines, after which I get into the second verse...
I am the lord that __________ thee X4
...and I can see the little, white, soft backed song book with it’s slightly grimy covers -apparently, not everyone washed their hands before they came to church, or they gave the books to their babies to chew on, or toddlers to fiddle with to keep them quiet - and I can smell the musk and perfume and body odour, and Bill Ennis’s cauldron coffee, and I’m frustrated that I can’t remember the 6th word of the second verse - teacheth? sootheth? soothe-eth? keepeth? I think it’s keepeth, actually - but now I think I have remembered, so that’s a little better as I don’t have to mentally mumble through it, but I still think it’s a little presumptuous of people to so blithely - and boringly - speak for their omnipotent god. You’d think that an all-knowing being would be a more competent song writer and make something a little more catchy. Having said that, though, it’s still droning on in my head, and my spirit is in turmoil, my mind making connections that I didn’t ask for and making everything so god-damned hard.
I just wanted a moment of peace without the cacophonic jangle, without my nerves on strings jerked about like a marionette dangled by a puppeteer with a background in tar and gravel roofing, or paving, or tying rebar. I want to sleep without the binaural screeee of tinnitus that rides silences, but there are geese honking outside(thankfully), and I think it’s that couple -geese mate for life- and either a kid of theirs or some other interloper that they’re trying to get rid of, or otherwise just not getting along with. Maybe I should go for my second walk of the morning, or go grocery shopping when the stores open, or find a gym to go work out in, or watch a video to make sure I know how to do the snatch right, or go wash my van and hit up the second-hand book store, or just lay down and listen to audiobooks, or open up that boardgame and stir the pieces around and peruse the rule book and wonder if I’ll ever play with anyone but myself again, but...no.
I’m just going to relax.
-A short time later-
No.
No I’m not.
You know, aside from the hygienic benefits, there is something quite cathartic about an intentional shower. Sure, you smell like the misery’s hoary armpit, sure, your hair is a mess, sure, your eyes are puffy and red, and your eyelashes are all kind of glued together, and you can solve all of those minor issues with a good wash, but with a degree of intention, you can also wash away a lot of bullshit that isn’t serving you, like self-loathing and worry, and you can cure your shortness of breath, and turn down the volume of intrusive thoughts like old hymns, and how come you’re such a fucking loser, and they can all ride the rinse, and your tears, into the drain, and away from you. For a little while.
The new song helps; I’m now listening to the death metal version of Eye of the Tiger, and it’s all at once more calming and motivating, uplifting, than any ridiculous churchy dirge could ever be for me. Brushed my teeth, ate a good breakfast, then brushed my teeth again, then swept all of those little fragments of mirror into the palm of my hand -we have now entered the figurative- all those little reflections of me, busted up, sharp, and lost, I sweep into my hand, and I watch them. I see myself in them. I always do. I am reflecting, sparkling, cutting, and bleeding, same as ever. “Same as ever.”, I say after the first tear has been added.
Same as ever.
I close my hand and squeeze as hard as I can. I close my eyes and count to ten, and behind them stirs a familiar vision.
There’s a boy standing on a trail that is two trails. He knows where he is, but he’s about to make a decision. Eye of the Tiger is playing, which is unlikely, so it’s probably just overlap, because he’s too innocent to be making this decision of who to turn to, and, you know what?
I don’t feel like flogging a maudlin metaphor right now.
What I see in the mirror, the regular mirror, is who I want to be, confident, humble, and not freaking out about anything. I have a very busy mind, but it is also a very sharp and curious mind, and I’ve been using it well to learn a lot and get a ton of school work very, very well done, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that some more, and from doing what I came here to do.
Not for long, anyway.
Poor kid.
He just didn’t know how to feel safe.
