This taste for immobility

Modifié le : 2019/08/06

Sud­den­ly, the house makes a crack­ling sound. I imme­di­ate­ly open my eyes. I, who already have trou­ble falling asleep, my sens­es imme­di­ate­ly return to their vig­il. Out­side, like vio­lent fire smoke, the clouds cross the hori­zon of the win­dow. I’m try­ing to get back to sleep, but the dam­age is done.

Diges­tion is also not going well. It con­tributes to anx­i­ety, a bad fat around the abdomen when I seem to overeat. It is only the liv­er, I guess, that takes its time to pro­ceed with the duck fat that was used for cook­ing the pota­toes of the last meal. As we are a whole, con­t­a­m­i­nat­ed engine oils like­ly dis­rupt frag­ile brain operations.

So it was the mess in my head. This morn­ing, the sky turned blue, the air is cold. The high winds of the night were only the man­i­fes­ta­tion of the tem­per­a­ture change. I still have a lot to do today, got up a lit­tle late, my legs are crossed, my back well sup­port­ed by pillows.

This taste for immo­bil­i­ty that we expe­ri­ence, a wise man from Asia has made it his nir­vana. Although my apart­ment is still in a beau­ti­ful mess, I tie my thought to this calm water of doing noth­ing and giv­ing thanks. Every moment can con­tain a storm, a cyclone. Each moment also has a cen­ter, an eye, a vision of sur­pris­ing calm. I find the courage to go back to the wind.