Stuck

Do you know the difference between a huff and a sigh? I’ve calculated the subtleties of both.

One hour. Most recent time passage. Listen to the tick. Analyze the sunshine, through the open blinds. So cold. Hungry. Bored.

Everything is too far away

1’ Study the book, learn something.
2’ iPhone, computer, TV remote, entertainment.
15’ Ball, no whisper today.
20’ Thermostat.
25’ Fleece pullover. So cold.
35’ Food. But nothing fun to eat.

Shaking with cold
Can’t move.
I’m told this isn’t mindfulness. Stuck.

Do you know what it sounds like to have a guinea pig rummaging in a hay pile looking for just the right morsel to eat? So there’s a rustling and once you know what the rustling is, you know it’s the guinea pig eating. Just eating. Just doing guinea pig normal stuff. I want to be a guinea pig just eating my hay.

Maybe ten times this past hour, noises outside the apartment are making me flinch, jump. What’s up with that?

“The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.” — Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind