I grabbed “Kundalini Rising
” and went downstairs to read while my family slept in. The morning sun poured into the back of the house for the first time in days. I tended the cats, grabbed a snack, and settled into the corner of the couch. I turned on the television, partly out of habit, and partly to see if the game was showing on our basic cable (otherwise, we’d planned to go somewhere this afternoon to watch it). After I found that it was scheduled, I didn’t turn off the television. For some strange reason, I thought the background noise would be good. I suppose that’s the habit part.
Now, it’s an hour later–the sun is a good bit higher in the sky–and I have mindlessly eaten two things that don’t really fit in my meal plan, screwed around Facebook and looked at email (not to be confused with actually tending any of the emails and updates that need tending), and watched a sort of violent show that I’ve actually already seen. I haven’t yet read a single page of the book that I snuck down here to enjoy in the sacred silence of this beautiful morning.
And the most alarming part is that all of it happened without a hint of awareness on my part. I didn’t notice anything was off track until I wandered away from Facebook and landed on CNN’s homepage. That’s when the mental alarms began to sound… loudly. The news and I broke up this summer and the fact that I was there helped me recognize that something had gone terribly wrong.
The reality check was appreciated. I’m back in my body, the television is off, and I’m writing. Yay! I’m me again. All of this came just in time, too… as I hear the pitter patter of not-so-little feet coming down the stairs.
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