Sunday, November 7, 2010
I woke at 6:30 to a wash of yellow light. It's really 7:30, I whispered.
I can't help myself. It's a game I've played for years. For the next week, unless I soak it for a whole month, every time I see a clock, I'll mentally spring ahead an hour, especially when it gets dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.
It's 4:30, I'll note.
No, it's really 5:30.
I do this with time, and a few other things. This negotiating thing. Maybe I'm just drawn to a constant state of grief, or longing, especially when it comes to light. What are the five phases again?
Denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, acceptance.
I'm often in one (or more?) of these phases during the course of a day. The opening and letting in, surrendering and letting go, more opening and letting in is a beating heart.
I know this sounds dramatica. It's just daylight and clocks. And in spite of falling back last night, not a bone in my body is sad.
Attachment is the root of all suffering.
As I write this @3:24. Nope, 4:24 I'm channeling Stephen, the tow-headed second grader who wrote this simple journal entry, many moons ago. It's possible I've already shared this, but the kid had a way with words so here it is again:
Today I feel happy. I don't know why.