Sunday, October 30, 2005

Watching the Wheels

A nod to John Lennon for this missive's title.......blessings on his sweet soul.

The nights grow longer as the artificial turning back of the clocks takes hold. Some flurries have fallen in our region, the leaves are finishing their transformation and are beginning to amass on the ground. Busy homeowners use noisy gas-powered machines to blow the leaves and other organic detritus around their yards. Machine against nature, as usual. Our yard is basically forest-floor---the leaves sit there all year, for the most part. So many other things to do. If we had a lawn to speak of, I'd hire a goat to mow it once a month. Til then, it's mulch and leaves and pine needles and other detritus "littering" the ground. Littering? How about gracing the ground? Maybe even embracing the ground?

Speaking of embracing, I am embracing the deneoument of my 16-day cold. The sniffles have run their course and I feel almost normal again--as normal as one can feel working 50 hours a week and living in what Bob Marley deemed "Babylon". Babylon it is, and with all of the words and computer screens and TVs and movies and information, it's more like "Babble-On" to me. Shall I babble on some more? I'm as guilty as the next guy for adding to the general hubbub.

Sunday evening comes so quickly, as I am wont to say, but with a new sunny office, a reinvigorated desk space, a feeling of expansiveness in our new work space, and the relative luxury of a coffee-maker, fridge and microwave of our own, my Quality of Life Index ("QoLI") is significantly increased at work. Nothing can really change the nature of my work, but having windows and natural light, some minor luxuries (mentioned above), and freedom from the 12-people-in-a-small-windowless-room syndrome is enough to make anyone giddy, at least for a few weeks, anyway.

So tomorrow it's back to the turning wheels. Can I just sit and watch them turn? At times. At others, I'm ground to a fine powder between them. Once in a while, the wheels seem to barely brush me at all and I slide between them using the lubication of emotional stability and equanimity. Frequently the wheels appear to have teeth which catch the seat of my pants and fling me around their circumference, my control seemingly usurped by the machinations of post-modern living. That said, control is an illusion, but so is the lack thereof. I want control, I want release, I want freedom, I want success, I want acceptance, I want to lose control. I want I want I want. All I really want is some peace. And that, I remind myself, is mine to have at any moment I desire it. It's right there, but my wants only serve to separate me from the peace I crave.

Peace of mind? I'll take the Happy Meal with a side of Contentment. I'll eschew the special on Suffering, thank you, but when is the sale on Self-Flagellation? Can I put this hair-shirt on layaway? I choose where I shop, but who put all of these things in my shopping cart? Did I order this emotion? Did I walk off with someone else's emotional groceries? I think I'll call Customer Service.......
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