Fragmentary Thoughts
I woke up from sleep this morning with several fragmentary thoughts. They were not necessarily the remnants of dreams, though they may have been. Rather they were a quick succession of thoughts I had upon waking, strong enough that I felt compelled to remember them and wanted to write them down.
-The sense memory of spooning, body to body, arms entangled, whispering small thoughts.
-Walking alongside a river and talking. Knowing that if we walked on this side of the river we talked of light things and if we walked on that side of the river we talked of heavy things. We were walking on the light side of the river, but we both knew that inevitably we would want, need, have to walk on the heavy side of the river.
-Someone burrows into the green to find a place of peace.*
Going to head into the office soon. Going to focus on lining one thing up and resolving it, then lining the next up, and the next and the next. Keep circling back around to a focused and disciplined approach. The end of a project can be compared to a maelstrom - there are many small things that need to be resolved and many problems that need to be solved and the presence of the ticking clock is always very heavy.
Just like moving through any storm you pull your coat tight, you put your head down, you take one step at a time, letting the wind buffet you, letting the rain lash at you, and you just keep moving forward. The vast majority of the times you make it through fine.
*I've had two recurring images in my dreams or at the edge of my dreams for the last several weeks, maybe a little longer. The dreams and images seem related, but have no specific meaning to me yet.
One is of a person meditating in the lotus position who is envisioning (or is) themselves sitting in the center of a pure green light. They are happy, almost to the point of ecstatic joy - a moment of sublime peace, emanating joy.
The second is of a person, perhaps the same person, curled up to go to sleep. They are using their imagination to still the day so they can fall asleep. They are imagining they are in an old bed, in an old house, surrounded by lush green vegetation, the air full of the scents of greenery and flowers, the coolness of the night stripping away the heat of the day. This mental image that they are creating is their sanctuary of sleep.
So begins the morning, with the fragments of thoughts had upon waking, that might or might not be related to each other, or might or might not be related to anything. Sometimes our thoughts are just fragments. But, usually, I find them to be small peices in an ever evolving mosaic, unfolding beneath our feet as we walk.
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