Dial up a cosmonaut and put them on the phone. I'll make no assumptions about their pronoun, I just need the long distance. Today is back again. See? The tax forms in the big envelope are still just waiting for me to find the supporting documentation.
You know, I read another fluffy article about astrological signs. This one was about the Four Signs That Fall Out Of Love the Fastest. Guess who was in there?
I remember you saying you didn't know how to love, and I got to thinking about the various factors that influence our ability. A secure attachment in the formative years. I saw you following your mother, doing chores, helping her, trying to please. The modeling of romantic love by your parents. I saw your father, absent. And your mother, dour. She's working all the time, he doesn't help. She is bitter and that seeps into every corner of the house.
You know what? I don't want to go any further down this road. I've thought those thoughts already. I've built both a credible defense and a withering prosecution. Neither do a damn thing to help me or you. I hope you've found a way to stay in love.
It is what it is, you might say. We are who we are. Fate.
My ex-wife was among those signs too. We spent the better part of 20 years fallen out of love raising children who will likely also wonder what love is. She had a secret blueprint for love. She was disappointed that I didn't know it by heart.
Last night, as a response to the shame of extended tax procrastination, I googled the daily schedule of monks of various denominations. There's a lot of praying and meditation, as one might expect. I saw in my mind the Unresponsive God. The One I met as a small boy. The One who always has His back turned. The One who took the phone off the hook and hung the Gone Fishin sign on His office door.
But there's also time for manual work, exercise, housekeeping, reading. Contemplation is the primary activity, and am I not already there? Except I do it in a profane, unproductive, circular fashion. I could refine that practice. Spend the rest of my days getting out of my own way. Seeking solidarity through solitude.
Anyway, the monk thing inspired me to set my alarm early. When it went off, I reset it for an hour later. I still got up relatively early, made coffee, watched a cardinal and a blue jay taking turns at the feeder getting their sunflower seeds and a goldfinch drinking at the birdbath.
Then I sat down to type these words out of my head so I can do you know what today.
Later:
For the most part, the tax preparations are complete. There are two documents I need to chase down, but for the most part, I am relieved.
You know, I read another fluffy article about astrological signs. This one was about the Four Signs That Fall Out Of Love the Fastest. Guess who was in there?
I remember you saying you didn't know how to love, and I got to thinking about the various factors that influence our ability. A secure attachment in the formative years. I saw you following your mother, doing chores, helping her, trying to please. The modeling of romantic love by your parents. I saw your father, absent. And your mother, dour. She's working all the time, he doesn't help. She is bitter and that seeps into every corner of the house.
You know what? I don't want to go any further down this road. I've thought those thoughts already. I've built both a credible defense and a withering prosecution. Neither do a damn thing to help me or you. I hope you've found a way to stay in love.
It is what it is, you might say. We are who we are. Fate.
My ex-wife was among those signs too. We spent the better part of 20 years fallen out of love raising children who will likely also wonder what love is. She had a secret blueprint for love. She was disappointed that I didn't know it by heart.
Last night, as a response to the shame of extended tax procrastination, I googled the daily schedule of monks of various denominations. There's a lot of praying and meditation, as one might expect. I saw in my mind the Unresponsive God. The One I met as a small boy. The One who always has His back turned. The One who took the phone off the hook and hung the Gone Fishin sign on His office door.
But there's also time for manual work, exercise, housekeeping, reading. Contemplation is the primary activity, and am I not already there? Except I do it in a profane, unproductive, circular fashion. I could refine that practice. Spend the rest of my days getting out of my own way. Seeking solidarity through solitude.
Anyway, the monk thing inspired me to set my alarm early. When it went off, I reset it for an hour later. I still got up relatively early, made coffee, watched a cardinal and a blue jay taking turns at the feeder getting their sunflower seeds and a goldfinch drinking at the birdbath.
Then I sat down to type these words out of my head so I can do you know what today.
Later:
For the most part, the tax preparations are complete. There are two documents I need to chase down, but for the most part, I am relieved.
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