Hey, reader Friend. I was lying in bed–my feet were up on two pillows, and I was resting.
That’s my favorite thing. Ming visited me; then he left. I had the fans turned off, and the ac was off.
I was like, is it cooling down? It’s almost August. I had this little hope, that fall was coming soon; I know that’s not true, but I wished it, like a kid.
I was lying there feeling happy, in the blissful silence. I thought, it sounds like winter. I thought it like that, a complete sentence. “It sounds like winter.”
how I think
My thoughts are often not really in complete sentences–more images, a word or phrase, memory, fantasy, plan, idea bursting out less complete. Connections being made without my apparent direction.
I also feel a lot, and might emote or exclaim. Surprise, anger, delight, tears of grief or frustration, fear. Singing in my head, sometimes, or listening to music playing in my head. Listening to voices, of course, or trying not to.
Sometimes I’ll switch to complete sentences and start writing in my head, or start talking to Ming in sentences. Or talking with someone in my imagination, a fantasy conversation.
I’ll write txts in my head to a particular friend; I may or may not get around to actually tapping them out and sending them.
Hmm, is ok describe that? How do you think? I guess I always thought I thought wrong. I was chastised for daydreaming, for example, that I was “wasting my time with nonsense” or “being too much in my head.”
I wish I could go back and tell anyone who chastised me for my thinking–give me a break! Mind your own mind, ass!
I thought of when I was in Minnesota, long ago, which feels like a land of winter, to me. How snow sounds, what snow does to a landscape.
When I lived in Bishop–I heard the rain falling outside; I loved it. Then I woke up in the night, and it was silent. Was it snowing? I peeked out the window, at the streetlamp.
Yep, those snow particles falling fast were in the lightglow, and I was ecstatic. Or nope, not snow silence. Regular silence, and I went back to bed.
Then yesterday morning, here in Las Vegas summer, daydreaming about winter… A cicada started up outside. Usually that weird electric sound bothers me. It scares me–hard to believe that sound really comes from an insect.
I remember the first time I heard it as a kid, I thought it was a tech malfunction. I was scared there would be a fire. Ever since then, it’s a scary sound for me.
But this morning, I was so calm and happy. I heard the cicada sound and let it inside me. I opened a little door in my heart, and let the sound come in, like a long line of dancing cicadas. That would make a cool art.
I let the vibration wash over me. I welcomed and loved it.
It was better than silence. How could that be? Singing to me, in the courtyard, filling the courtyard with consistent sound.
It was a spiritual experience in bed. Kind of like the magic of crickets, but I was never afraid of crickets. This was a transformation, what this year is all about, for me.
I hear friends complain this year is a dumpster fire. They wish it never happened. I hear them and puzzle at how this year, the worst thing happened that ever happened to me–my mom dying. But this year is amazing. I’ve never learned so much.
I guess it’s terrific–terrifying but thrilling. Coins have two sides. Here’s the luxury of enjoying it. Thank you, cicadas.