Have been entirely unable to shop. I can see how I uselessly
distract myself with it, and that I don’t need anything. For the first time in
forever, perhaps, I have had the steady energy to take care of most of the
paperwork on my desk that has been sitting here for years, go down my lists of 'to do' lists and check things off, and I am enjoying it tremendously, both for
itself and as a relief from editing/writing. I enjoy sitting at my desk for hours, now
that it is far more organized than before, lifting up my head to see the birds
feeding and the petunias. I have steady energy, too, perhaps as a result of
going to the gym three days this week – a regimen I intend to stick to till I
leave for India in a little over a month. I love such regular steadiness that
is possible by a withdrawal from externals, and it is hope for such steadiness
that keeps me reclusive.
Two days ago I thanked my
brain for what it is, what it has done, or not done, and so much else I can’t
think about this morning because it is my darling brain that makes me think of
it in detail. Was it the brain thanking itself? No, it didn’t feel like it at
all, but rather a something, someone else beyond my brain that acknowledged it
and paid its respects. What, who was it? This, then, is the search, isn’t it?
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