I close my eyes, and I see it. It blinds me. In the stillness between heartbeats, I hear its defeaning roar. In the pause between breaths, I smell its intoxicating aroma. Between swallows, I taste its juices. And, every time I relax, I feel it. Caressing me. Massaging away the aches and the pains of living.
I stopped being overwhelmed a long time ago. Callouses formed. Strength developed. Resistance wilted and died.
Thoughts are stones. Feelings are rapids. Disturbing the tranquility of the stream, but not the flow. Never the flow. Take away the obstacles, and the stream will barely notice. It will flow as it always has. Try to dam the stream, and it will find a way. Nothing can stop it. Nothing.
I wonder what has happened to me. I wonder what is happening to me. I wonder what will happen to me.
And at the same time, the rapids wear down the jagged edges of the stones, shaping them to conform to its flow, rounding them out and making those thoughts slippery. Maybe that's why they're so hard to grasp sometimes.
posted by: NakedGirl | July 23, 2009 8:59 AM
Oooooooo touche' NG!
I know, I know. . . why am I HERE? I love the way this man writes.
posted by: Iron Butterfly | July 23, 2009 9:21 AM
I like the slippery thoughts thing. I wish I'd thought of it.
posted by: dave | July 23, 2009 10:42 AM
That's why you have me, dear. I can try to fill in the gaps sometimes.
And you didn't think of it because it was too slippery to get hold of. ;o)
posted by: NakedGirl | July 23, 2009 11:38 AM