One Last List
Crap Which Has Gone Wrong Already This Morning

The Brightness of Light

  Brighteness of light

The Christmas has been tucked away, quietly awaiting autumn’s return.

And yes the house is darker.  With a Settled Focus upon work at hand, though oddly enough our voices sound loud, a bit strained at the edges; as though compensating for that which has left:  the anticipation, the joy, the tradition; those hands warm and held wrapped about us snug:  our respite and indeed our savior from Ordinary Time.

Ordinary Time,

it whirls around me now, funneling me up and out.  Wind whistling over and yeal through my ears as I freefall plop upon hard ground, staring at that dust devil whirring outta sight. 

Wondering what I do now, surrounded as I am by math and composition and science books and cars evidently requiring mysterious mechanical things done to them

(though I have heard both rumor and detailed explanations of such doings for years, but either my mind hasn’t absorbed them or I’ve simply failed to pay attention),

and so many

(too many),

various bits and areas of This Joint requiring completion or fixing or refixing or just plain brightening up).

So I find myself running.  Running literally (in a complex and contrary virtual kinda fashion) to clear my head and Be Fit; to strengthen Everything. 

And metaphorically running.  Because honestly (and yeal I talk/chant/pray for this every day), honestly every part of me, within and without, requires strengthening, but most times I’m uncertain where to seek for that strength aside from those same ole places

{but surely there should be more?  One more something to spur me on, clear my mind and check that Dawg to stay in his spot!

Ordinary Time is back with an agenda all its own, never thinking to care whether I like it or not.

And my question (as I lie in bed too long of a morning, pillow smushed against my face, regarding Ordinary Time hovering just beyond the covers warily, eyeing it with mingled anger and sharp bits of fear); my question is will I be able to wrangle Ordinary Time into the shape I know it should be?  Will the days play out

(mostly)

according to plan?

{Mostly ‘cause we all know how plans go…}

Or will Ordinary Time have its way with me; refocusing my days into something It aspires them to be?

Mundane, frustration filled; evenings messier and more chaotic than even this damn morning was!

{Yeal this is what I shout out at night. 

This results in torn hair and a clawed face and a heart bursting with pain and directionless anger.

So naturally I aim that anger at me.  What better target? 

So close, knowing my prey so well that Honey I am a Dead Eye Shot.}

Ordinary Time takes hold whether I want it to or not, and my only recourse is to stare it down.

To pull on my boots

(cause I’m likin’ all this cowboy metaphor stuff)

and kick Ordinary Time’s butt.

To keep running, keep building that strength which comes from all around me and nowhere in particular and all those sweet, secretive spaces in between.

Knowing all the while the sweat pours and my legs ache, the pain in my back lightening spreads and I’m watching those miles rack up slow

that yeal I’m kickin’ it (through outer and inner sweat and fear); forming Ordinary Time into what I want it to be.

What it’s supposed to be.

Cause even though it swirls all about, carrying me

(yes kicking and screaming)

into tomorrow after tomorrow and every moment which might follow;

I’m in control.

{If only I can aim that Settled Focus.

Keeping that strength goin’, and my unruly memory strong.}

 

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