The alarm, a nice chirping sound clip from Star Trek the original series. Communicator opening I believe, something pleasant, yet persistent enough like the chirping of a cardinal to whisk away lingering dreams.
And they do fade, not willingly, I was rich in them, whole body wrapped in an experience collected from bits of my experiences, loves, family, home. I flew the night previously, just leapt into the air and flew high, the land falling away beneath my feet as the mind and body screamed with freedom.
Can’t fully recall this mornings’, home, again, someone close to me was touching me, speaking in a manner relaxed, open, giving. It was comfortable. I don’t fully recall because I didn’t take the time to. A minute or so of peace would have brought it all back, but another part of my mind decides it wants to turn off the alarm, get the day started.
I give in.
Predawn is spent at a measured pace, my morning ritual tending to the body’s needs and readying myself for close proximity to people later. A brief minute or two is spent looking and reading The Universe in a Nutshell by Hawking. I enjoy the diagrams relating the text, it’s how my mind sees. Color and shape are felt, images are brought to life in some creative stir inspired by words. I am beyond my room, flitting easily on the event horizon of a collapsed star as it pulls all light in.
I close the book. Time to eat.
The kitchen light is automatic, turning on a the right hour so I don’t need to bother with the switch. Yes, I know, such an effort. It works for me. A daylight fluorescent bulb sitting in an upturned dish with a flexible stem attached to it, quite simply the same as the Pixar lamp in their movie intros. I like that little lamp. It’s got moxie. I was surprised, the fluorescents are normally terrible light, this one is dim to be sure, but its color is warm. It feels good.
Cereal comes out, boxes stuffed in the refrigerator, pull them out past the milk, the protein powder. It’s a little challenge not to knock anything over and I succeed. A little victory for fine motor movement. The bowl awaits and is soon filled with three different cereals, a Great Grains mix I have also fine tuned. Lethicin granules are next. I pour out a mentally measured amount, the teeny yellow balls hit the flakes and skitter-spill every which way, most nestling deep in the flaky layering. Whey protein follows, vanilla, gets to form a little mound atop the sharp flakes and dried blueberries. A good, but careful spoon weaving ensues, like rousing lettuce leaves for a salad, so that nothing finds its way outside the bowl. I am mostly successful. Milk melts the powder and lethicin together, gives the flakes something to settle into.
At my desk food goes in me. A quick check on google news just to make sure we haven’t been taken up in the ballyhooed rapture. Thought not. A sign of the times.
Men are still men.
A little Frasier episode to pass the time of munching on protein powered cereal. I have to admit, it does taste good, and I enjoy the witty humor along with it.
With the bowl set aside I start digging into emails, sending a big one to a cool aunt of mine. She asked for it. I liked being in her presence the last time I saw her, nearly a year ago now. She was open, curious about me, as we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. I think she enjoyed that I smiled and laughed much, and probably wondered just what I was going to do or say next. I have to say, she caused some of that laughter, more than some I think. I like her.
My mind dances with other projects, including this blog. I won’t be able to write it until later. A short story comes to mind and I think about putting it here instead. I will save that. I return to my philosophy project, play with design of the website for it. Yesterday I had filled a page with my mind about it. It sits next to me as I type now, a big sketch book that does more than hold sketches it seems. A new poem made its way in there as well. That’s the thing about poetry, it doesn’t care in the slightest where it gets put down, so long as it’s put down.
I digress.
I pull up movies of last week’s training. Brite Benning moved wonderfully, executing her hip movement naturally and prior to her relaxed punch to the man she had just turned over. I assemble a clip and slow the action down, do a voice over pointing it out, to post at a later date. Training for as long as I have you tend to see beauty in movements others may see as violent. I just shake my head, she has such a functional body, beautiful it moves like poetry. Pure physical poetry.
See…it doesn’t matter where it gets put down at all.
