Today is one of those days that I don’t want to leave the house. Today is one of those days where I feel too tender to be looked at by strangers. My heart is an obvious malady sticking out of my chest ready to be gawked at. On these days I want to live this intense sensitivity, honour it, and invisibly slide across the sidewalk to my desired destination completely unnoticed.
These, I believe, are important times. They are acutely pointing toward a truth nearly ready to emerge. They are footholds up, up and away. They are vortexes, opportunities to receive by their intense forcing open. These are times to listen, to be alone, to feel everything and allow it to penetrate and affect my being. These are times in which I want to distil myself into a piece of fabric, or a drop of a flower essence, or three bars of music and then feel, taste or hear the truth of what I am.
Life does not allow for these times to flourish. Things are fast and all at once; there is little room to unravel. That’s why our heads are down on certain days. You don’t want to look at anyone on the subway? Okay, you can be invisible for a day.
Today I honour the propensity of those in the metropolitan marketplace to withdraw, retreat and be alone even though surrounded by millions. I get it.
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