shabat

Sunday February 12th, 2006

there is no sun in the night, as a statement of fact and no definable importance, other than that it is an empiric observation that could be suggested as a necessary condition for the purposes of describing "not day".
we are all creatures of the mind, said the little one, interjecting another thought into the handful that had words attached, an opposable thumb, a whimsical thought that was strong enough to divert what you minded, strong enough to return to for giggles.

Sometimes I am ridiculously happy and calm, and things seem secondary to my experiencing them. And at others, it's as though my tail is easier to chase than attempting to ride through the multiple situations that various groupings of people are lassoing me with based on my position among them. Baseless, shifting sands, hello tail, and neurotica, and self-assuming the qualities that I feel from outside myself.
I feel (totally subjective, could be my madness - there I go again) unloved - ergo I say: I am unlovable. I feel taken for granted - I say: I give too easily for this situation, I misjudged. I feel out of the loop - I say: I am insufficiently social.
And it's not true.
I'm telling you now, it's absolutely indupitably contrary to how things are.
So I reassure myself, put my vocabulary back on fair and square (no sliding, inferences, warping for trauma).
And where does that leave me, undermining my own naive enjoyment of all my friends, coworkers, and family?
It's impossible to tell everybody everything. And why would you?
But still it's impossible, and the gaps make it hard to navigate. How to know in advance what is relevant. And how it changes. The trajectory is one thing, the curvature of the arc determines that the points of intersection will be significantly different. That's significant, little one.
We are all creatures of the mind.
Sometimes I feel the equilibrium that comes, like it did today, from all of us acting out of our own initiatives, small gestures that addeed up together, quiet consideration, a low-key syncronised comfort, because I am leaving and it somehow takes the pressure off, to have an end-date, and the moments were appreciated, as they came and flowed into others.
I appreciate the people who got in a taxi and made the trip, who dressed for the occasion, who provided surprises, who extended themselves only as far as, who asked for what they needed, who made new jokes, included the new people, and told new stories, who behaved as one should when it's goodbye but not really good bye.
The new ones displayed evidence of their idiosyncracies about food, responsability, social silence. That was funny. And the old ones, we know what ours are.

"Come with me, come with me", said the night. "Leave the dark to itself." And he ground my hand to dust.