HUsh. Feb 2013

There are moments, nights, some afternoons,...  even a morning here or there, when I feel to write for so long and so rapidly to exhume as quickly as possible the layers of consciousness that I've been packing away for months...  years...  And let me be honest, I can pack deep in mere moments.

Maybe I’m hyper-feeling.  What is a scientific name for that?  Overly emotional? Melodramatic? Temperamental? Filled with angst?  That's my least favorite one.  See how all of those terms are negative?  Blech. More emotions. What are the positive ones? 

Right now, I'm trying to avoid what I'm feeling low and deep by superficial deflection and distraction.  That's good, right?  Cause if I can slip past a few emotions without having to examine them or sit in them or look at them and weep....  That would be....  better.                                

Right?

Why do we cry?  Anyone? Raise your hand if you have the answer to this, please. Does Darwin explain it? Maybe pride leaves the body through tears.  And maybe Darwin would support my idea that those who are carrying around less pride live longer or breed better? 
Why do we cry when someone else cries?  Is it the same reason we laugh when someone else laughs?  Or yawn when someone else yawns? 
If the emotion is let out of the jar into the room, we all breathe it in. 
Well, some do. 
I do. 
I wish I could breathe in a little less. 
Anyone?

This isn't working.  My stomach still hurts, and my heart is still racing, and my breathing is.... 
Oh, I forgot! I'm tired. 
Is it just time to sleep?
Sleep.
Yes.

That’s it, I'm going in to watch golf with Rich.  I love watching golf with Rich.  He seems so peaceful and untroubled, and slumber arrives like a long-awaited friend, home from a distant journey.
And I tell you what! Golf is in Pebble Beach this week!  Please! I couldn't be happier to watch golf when the surf flickers in the background. Every once in a while, I get lucky and a ball is hit into the water (unlucky for the golfer) and I get to see the coastline even longer. 
And there are the Cypress trees, and I start to smell it and breathe in a sureness that somehow all is healed on that coast.  A few minutes with my toes in the cold sand, the sun spilling across my face, and I remember... 
I am here.
Layers of consciousness are in the past.
But I am here and I am safe. And I am loved.
I am seen… by the water and sunlight for sure.

Why are ye troubled and why do thoughts arise in your heart?
Rest, child.
Hushhhhh.
It’s time for sleeping.