November 25
THE FLYING MIND
When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am
left mentally bereft. I feel
intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to
fulfill my assignments. I stare out sure
a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon
patsy. What to do? These parodied wingdings ridicule me
privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors. My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my
place. I have to find a way to spot and
keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by
watching one doorframe or light switch.
I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts. I still need to make the mental turns but
this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.
Work with
yourself.
*
John Grisham
My time hovering low over the ocean
has filled me until I am ready to drop.
The weight of what is inside me bears down.
I know with the slightest cooperation
I will become a rainmaker.
I am mostly fine with this.
I know from whence the rain was derived
and I can let it fall in peace.
What I don’t know how to handle
is the acknowledgement.
The difference between what I know
and what you might think is vast
and if I try to dissuade you
I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.
I have to get my head around the part I play
and accept the roses when they come.
I don’t understand how this looks from offstage
or what it means to those who watch.
I hope they will enjoy the work
but never mistake me for the playwright.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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