There’s a thread you can pick up and follow through every moment, every thought and feeling– and it isn’t held in linear time or physical space. It can be a bright red string or a nearly invisible and intangible strand of spider silk, but it will take you through the maze that is your life, your many lives.
I felt sad and lonely for a bit today: I picked at the tangle and sensed all the reasons, undid the knot and found a new length of knowing to follow.
I dumped, and I mean dumped, my breakfast shake on the floor at my desk. As if I was a toddler given a regular cup for the first time. (I mix it in a mason jar. This time, despite having already taken a few sips, my brain told my hand that the lid was still screwed on, and my hand obediently shook the jar. It was astounding that hardly any got on anyone’s shoes, and that most of it went on the padded rubber mat).
In moments like this I feel very much how I am an observer of Rose’s Life: Huh. Didn’t think we were that tired. How did that happen? Good thing this job doesn’t involve power tools!
The first (dozen) times a very wise friend told me they appreciated how self-aware I was, no matter the intensity of the thoughts or feelings I was observing, I laughed! How on earth was it a good thing to not only have this circus fire going on, but to be listening in on the performers’, spectators’, and fire fighters’ commentary?
But that’s the thread. The through-line. The noticing is what breaks the fourth wall, what gives me something to hold onto. And since I’ve come to realize that though not everyone has this (much) noise in their head, plenty of people do, and they either don’t notice it or they don’t know how to tease it apart and see the chords that make it up.
Even when I don’t find myself led somewhere Else, somewhere enlightened by the thread, the feel of it between my fingers or clasped like a tarred rope against calluseds palms is a comfort. And then I can just stand still and be exactly where I’m always going all along.
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