Sunday, February 1, 2015

Unraveling At Such A Dizzy Pace

The dog and I go out at 3 a.m. expecting frigidity but it's not so bad or maybe I'm dressed right for once. Well, you do what you can, and let entropy handle the rest, which it always does. I slip a little here and there, mostly while squinting for the moon, which isn't even a perceptible blur behind all these clouds promising snow. The forest creaks and moans and half a mile into it I start wishing I'd worn thicker socks, which pleases me in the sense that I still sometimes fall for that old lie about suffering. But also, I am ready now to be happy, even if I can't say how, even if I can't say with who. Such a strange life to lead, unraveling at such a dizzy pace no matter how much you try to manage it! It eats whatever meaning you toss it, as if hunger were not a virtue, as if there weren't these many details, each more extravagant than the last. Keep it simple I tell myself as we turn back, watched by owls, studied by deer. If you are lost then follow a dog is one way to look at it but I know now there are others. If you think you can hold my attention - if you believe there is something you can offer - then by all means bring it. We are at that juncture where hesitation begets no grace. I am setting the table with two spoons and two bowls, I am sitting up at odd hours, lonesome but vigilant, learning how to tend the tiny fire given all of us.

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