desert | Writing Towards Happy

3/7/15 6:40pm

I feel overwhelmed. I’m at Auntie’s and I can’t escape the noise.

(move outside)

I come here to escape the noise, the technology, the pain. This time I brought it with me. I helped Auntie learn her smart phone this afternoon and missed the sunset. Geodon is making me really sensitive to sound and I feel like everything is screaming at me – phone, tv, people.

I’m sitting on the porch now. I hear distant dogs barking, the hum of traffic on a nearby road. I try not to hear Steve Harvey on the tv inside. I look up and see sparking stars. They stand out, close and present, against the living night sky. A dark blue glow hugs the skyline – hills and plants. My salty desert dirt. I can’t smell it today. Allergies. If it wasn’t cold I’d sleep out here.

What do I want?

To have unpressured non-timed down time to be mindful in here
To teach Auntie her phone
To give gifts
To go to church
To scan photos

(stare at the stars, deep breath) Wow. The sprig of a tree stands out white in the night. I think I just learned the color indigo.

(watch the moths)
The cold is helping.
What I need is some place comfy for me to sit. That would reduce my anxiety and pain.

(stare at the stars)
They were really there, all the time.
(see a shooting star)
(ponder in which direction a “falling” star is moving)
(consider universal relativity)

This may be why I go crazy in the desert. For now, I’ll eat ice cream.

My doctor asked me to write a poem about gemstones or nature. This is what came out.

1-31-15 5:30pm

When I think of nature, the thing that comes to mind is salty desert dirt. I see the multicolored orbs – white, tan, brown – piled on top of each other, shifting with each of my steps. I stop, bend down to look at them, to ponder the earth. Large black ants march on their way. I’m fascinated by their roundness, their focus. Is it of fear or motivation? Intently I watch the ant hill. What is the project? What is the mission today?

The smell of the earth fills the air. It permeates by being. I want to be here with this earth, this special earth. When I leave, it isn’t hurt. When I return, it isn’t happy. It is simply my earth. Salty, talcy, dusty, dirty earth. I need no gemstones.

The earth doesn’t judge. It listens. It respects me. It hurts predictably when I fall on it. Salty desert dirt.

Writing Towards Happy

The experience of making positive change in my life

Tag Archives: desert

Indigo

Salty Desert Dirt