Yesterday morning 5:30 am or so - i swallowed 3 grams of a dried plant that had an orangish cap and a dried stringy stalk · the taste was not unappetizing, nor was chewing an arduous task; it was a very interesting morning. I finished up the morning journaling my therapist who is helping me with assimilation and various aspects of aging in a foreign country during great worldwide upheaval; (she is a very understanding human being). I then walked to deliver a level i had borrowed to verify that in fact the floor where i live is sloped, and my balance or lack thereof is within limits. I also stopped to visit with the ’Simi’, Doctora who has been very gracious and wise conducting medical procedures of an ‘allopathic’ nature. In the process of walking, I was heckled by my detractors, cleaned the dog leavings from the storefront my young friend/compadre whose mother is keeping the nascent enterprise afloat while he works through existential issues; took smack from local store owners who still chafe at gringo ‘inversion’ and y who apparently remain unsure how to channel their ‘xenophobia’; some who modeled their’s while living within the “Belly of the Beast”- Uncle Sam’s very own lair - “The land of Milk and Honey”.
I fell asleep physically exhausted; spiritually at ease; psychologically at peace but still wondering how my organic supplement ight affect sleep patterns that have been ’tweaked’ since my TBI in Bakersfield CA @ the end of 2o23 just before my return here to Oaxaca. When i did fall back out after my ‘pee break’, i slept through to early morning closer to my internal ‘alarm’ than i’d been able to in months. I was still ‘metacognating’ as i am given to perseveration from early on - filling in the wee nocturnal hours with puerile ‘reaction formation’ about issues of impermanence and death with emerging literary conceits encouraged by my father’s liberal concepts of appropriate literature for 8,9,10 . .. year olds - truth be told, Ma’s own eclectic interest in all things ‘book’, had as much bearing on my mental formation as Pop’s very self-consciously aberrant intellectual pursuits.
Now pushing 10:30 am the following day, i feel the same calm which arrived with me from whatever region of the ‘near and far’ i visited yesterday. As a very visually cued individual, i’d like to explain the parameters using descriptive language, but as close i seem able to get is the anatomical weaving of somatic awareness; for example, my discipline late at night is to resort to deep breathing, certainly in some twisted ‘wishful thinking’ about my dissipated youth and bouts with the demons of smoke inhalation, be that as it may, i also have empirical experience with the onset of abdominal hernias as manifest in the tender regions of healing my infernally ‘strong’ stone cutter’s physique - (i can only imagine how reading that feels, from having to write it¿).
I’ve long abandoned the uniquely human conceit of anatomical symmetry, and am in the throes of formulating a ‘unified theory of wounds’ based on the I Ching’s apt passages describing the blindness of what what one cannot see behind one’s back. This hunger for understanding is warranted during our human corruption of knowledge when ‘experts’ trumpet how much we can see with the new-improved digital lens in space, yet for me to explain to my well-versed brother about what i meant by ‘obtusize’ a mildly acute internal angle on a poured concrete staircase sandwiched by brick walls and ceiling to an interior auxiliary bathroom in the highly mold-susceptable clime of the city in the clouds where i now call home, i had to fotograph the puddle with my ‘stupid’ fone, in order to take a ‘photobooth’ shot off of my laptop, because walking items up and down stairs in my multilevel domestic heaven precluded the possible drop of my laptop while trying to negotiate morning errands with ‘arm’s full’ - if that make any more sense than ‘obtusize’, than i am improving as a ‘communicator’ of Horace’s obscure.
Part of the impulse to use myself as a ‘laboratory rat’ has been to gain a better sense of the internal and external reality of perception. By all accounts as the son of an inveterate ‘existentialist’, to the extent the possible corruption of solipsism infecting my objectivity caused psychic disquiet. Nor am i any closer to the ‘eureka’ of is that all there is¿ However, i more than welcome the ease one gains from being at peace within one’s skin, whether as a result of foreign substance, the outcome of mental discipline foreswearing the flimflam that constituted the interludes of Sheriff John or Jimminy Cricket’s anomalous efforts to inculcate a population with ’wisdom’, while simultaneously reconciling the very real possibility of anonymous incineration:
at this turn i’d settle for a glimpse of how to aid the 7th generation removed from where i sit .. .
stay tuned . ..
until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·
(˚ ㄥ _˚)
jts Tuesday 23 September 2o25
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
prohibited from AI sampling in any form
reprinted with permission; all rights reserved
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