This morning was the first morning I have woken up without trying to will myself back into stasis. I blame the weather (how long can a person be expected to dwell in grey as far upward and downward as the eye can see? There is not even a seam to be seen). Lately I have found energy in eating only green foods that simulate a landscape of lush greens (yesterday was avocado green, today chartreuse). And I am finding ways to energize myself instead of relying on catalyst encounters. There is one month left in this second semester of the first year. I have spent the last eight months treading water insulating myself with a non-permeable plastic coating (something akin to couch covers of the suburban 50s home: all appearance, no feeling). This was adjustment, trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, and eyes as big as saucers. But I didn’t get my hands dirty—taking in without raking, staking, taking apart. Coming back from the conference last week is starting: ideas, people, sloppy notes and clammy handshakes. Removing plastic periphery perimeter, I am understanding that clutter is not chaos, not all or nothing, nor something to be compartmentalized. This is happening.
This morning happening:
My assignment (with my students) broke, and it has never felt better to recompose
I am a part of my ideas (no more dismemberment or disembodiment or disassociation)
St. Vincent is patron of Thursdays
I uncovered forgotten video footage