Feb 9, 2008
When i first awaken in the morning, i am weak-minded. It's not just that i can't think very well, but my internal dialog hasn't been kickstarted. I'm in a swimmy-headed state between states of thinking. I haven't let go of my dream world and the real world hasn't made enough of an impression on me to care enough to begin the kind of regular thinking that includes to do lists and appointments. I call it 'math thinking' and Helen knows not to innundate me with too much too soon.
Helen on the other hand begins joining hands with the real world before she even wakes up i think. It's almost as if her waking mind is so strong it pries her out of the comfortable memory foam of bed. By the time her body moves it's already with the purpose and determination of expected results. I expect nothing of the day on just waking up, have no clue about results and only as they present themselves - a pile of unfinished photos on the computer, the need to change the dressing on my latest wound, whatever.
My weak mind can easily be hijacked. This morning Helen was in the kitchen making our breakfast of an egg, some weekend bacon we allow ourselves and a grapefruit halved for each of us, all while listening to Eat, Pray, Love on CD. A book i've been enjoying with her, both reading it to her at night and listening to it in the car or kitchen. But this morning, it is an endless stream of words that hijacks my brain and doesn't let my own feelings and dull experiences come back to me. I do the breakfast dishes and then have to almost run out of the kitchen to be able to hear myself think. I have only thoughts of what i'm being told. I can't start zen's day without my thinking utensils, whatever they may be. But sweet as a golden brown marshmallow, warm and satisfying, Helen turns the CD off after she notes my distress. We sit on the porch for a moment and have the small conversations of love and passing thoughts that intimate people do. And my brain settles down to be able to write this post.
And i'm awake now. And happy.