Invisible Sky Things

We had planned on having Indian food for lunch last Friday, but instead we at at Brood & Barley. Though Brood & Barley was, as expected, wonderful, the fact that we missed out on an opportunity to eat Indian food weighs on my mind. My girlfriend either has never eaten Indian food or does not recall the experience (which would have taken place many years ago). I feel an obligation to address that deprivation. But our respective schedules are so damned demanding! For a couple of retired folks, the obligations we face (and accept) seem almost overwhelming. Our calendars may require some joint attention.


Today, if the stars align properly, I will do a bit of pressure-washing. Nothing crazy, you understand, but a little. Just a tad. Maybe. If the stars cooperate. But, since I cannot see them, how can I possibly know? What can I do to ensure that my day is in proper alignment with invisible sky things? It’s pointless. I will just have to trot headlong into oncoming stellar traffic, hoping meteors and other celestial objects will miss me.


Fear and guilt and a host of other intractable emotions can intercede on behalf of what one might have thought was a defeated depression.

Excuse me,” the fetid emotions might say, “your emotional comfort and well-being are putting your sense of self-doubt and angst at risk, so—in an attempt to crush your spirit and your dreams—I’m going to have to step in to drown your joy in a flood of tears.

Those might not be the exact words, but they are close enough to get the message across.  Those wordsand the sense of insecurity they attempt to insert in place of self-esteemare like torn arteries spurting blood. If allowed to hemorrhage for long, they will rob one of his life, whether metaphorically or actually. Yet handkerchiefs and tourniquets can choke off necessary supplies of life-giving fluid, doing as much harm as leaving the experience to attempt to heal on its own. There is a point at which pressure is just enough, but not too much, to stem the flow of blood or cut off the supply of tears. The trick, of course, is to acquire and apply the skills of a surgeon and a psychiatrist.


Loving oneself involves forgiving one’s faults or, at the very least, accepting them as flaws in need of repair. That concept is hard to embrace, but it’s necessary if one is to overcome obstacles to happiness. Insistence on perfection in others, I’ve discovered, is a form of projection; disappointment in others’ failure to achieve perfection is a projection of one’s own failure to meet expectations. It’s a self-feeding parasitic monster that must be starved or otherwise slain, without killing the host in the process. Human mental chaos resembles masses of fishing line clotted around treble hooks.


A hot shower, a shave with heated shaving foam, a full-body massage, and a haircut. That’s an incomplete sentence wrapped around a complete thought. Full-on delight bathed in a soft, comfortable robe, that’s what that is! If I were willing to invest the time and money and if I were able and willing to accept the awkwardness involved, I might pursue all the above this morning. Alas, I have neither the money nor the ability to deal with awkward discomfort. That does not mean I will not shower and shave. I will do both, just not as precursors to a full-body massage and a haircut. But I may get a haircut. Maybe.


I forgot to tell Alexa to add bran flakes to my shopping list; not that having it on the list would do any good if I didn’t go grocery shopping. And I forgot to tell her to add Bombay Sapphire gin, as well. But both are on my list now. I should add a bunch of other “stuff” to my list, too, but first I should plan some healthy menus. And I should stick to them. My lethargy should not stand in the way of eating healthy meals. Really. I need to pay closer attention to eating well. Chips and cheese and bread do not a healthy diet make. More veggies, please. That’s what I’ll put on my list. And protein in small doses. I don’t need as much protein as I seem to think. But all that healthy eating does not preclude cooking a very nice one-pound ribeye or New York strip steak on occasion. All things in moderation, including beef,


My mind is racing this morning. I can’t seem to stay focused long enough to finish a sentence. I would not accept advice from me this morning. I should shave. That would give me a head start on the day. But that’s advice, isn’t it? So I better steer clear of that.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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