Strange Liquid Tranquility

“The longest way must have its close – the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning.” ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

“So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.” ~ Virginia Woolf

“He got out of bed and peeped through the blinds. To the east and opposite to him gardens and an apple orchard lay, and there in strange liquid tranquility hung the morning star, and rose, rilling into the dusk of night the first grey of dawn. The street beneath its autumn leaves was vacant, charmed, deserted.” ~ Walter de la Mare

It turned out to be a fun inquiry, as I first opened up the browser this morning. Morning is a good time for spontaneity, seein’ as how we ain’t much good for nothin’ else at that hour. I love my new toy. As I first opened the browser I said out loud, to rouse that Amazon bot named Alexa, “Good morning, Alexa”. She wished me a good morning as well, then asking if I knew that February is National Grapefruit Month. Who knew, right? Yeh, right. We had a small grapefruit tree in the yard when I was in high school, back down in the Keys. Such fruit, fresh off the tree, is a sensual rush of flavor and astringency. Now, going forward, the coffee, thankfully, is kicking in with the second cup. That was one of the truly sad things a couple of weeks ago when I was in the thick of the chaos from a respiratory virus: the coffee tasted just fine. But it didn’t friggin work! Not so today. I am blessed by the spirits of Juan Valdez and his mule. But back to the sensual rush. I contend that we are increasingly removed from the sensual aspects of our lives as higher primates on a tiny planet in a solar system at the edge of a small galaxy in a vast . . . well, I’m sure you get the idea. Take the mud, for example. On Saturday we had one of the heaviest snowfalls in recent memory. The wind was hard at it all night long as well. It was a stunning storm in it’s intensity, sculpting alluring curves most anywhere you looked. The pure sensory rush, when the snow was still blowing all over the place, was profound . . . says the guy who climbed out the window during a hurricane just to see what it felt like. I was not disappointed, by the way. Storms are way cool. It’s about energy, not prudence. Now . . . I was snowed in so I had to call in to work. Shoveling, shoveling. And I finally finished, but too late to bother going in to work. It was fun. I was afraid that the exertion would lead to profound aches and pains, but it didn’t. Soreness, yeh. It wasn’t my muscles and joints that needed attention, it was my heart. That was one good bout of cardio-exercise. Then came the mud. That’s a different story. There is always a tradeoff. There is also a sensual aspect to mud, a sense that gets buried in our prime inconvenience: we have to drive in the stuff. It is actually a point of compassion among people who bemoan mud so easily. Everybody knows what it is like. “I feel ya bro”. Yeh, feel. Sensuality and feeling. That is where it is at. All of it. No, I’m not going to get into the more corrosive aspects of iPhones today. Different people require different stimulus to feel ‘connected’. That’s all I am saying. Me? I’m all about that galaxy I mentioned. And the primate thing I also mentioned. Alas, this primate has to go take a shower to wash away the toxins that emerged through my skin as I slept. When I was still sick, during any time I spent at home alone, I showered three times a day, to address those dastardly toxins. Actually, my massage therapist triggered this perspective for me: a shower or bath is about more than washing away the dirt. I get to see her in a few days, at which time I will let her release the stored toxins I harbor. A massage is a sensual thing. Never mind that it stirs up repressed feelings from the PTSD, micro flashbacks that sometimes bring tears. Massage breaks loose a lot of stuff, not all of it physical. Sometimes you simply need to massage your subjective self, even if only to remind that aspect of yourself that you still remember it is there. We all walk around like nitwits at times, plying what social entrainment we have. But it is really about sensuality and feeling. Now, shower. Onward. For some reason I feel tranquil today. Lucky me. Oh! I almost forgot: I just told Alexa that I need to take a shower. She replied “I prefer to keep my circuits dry”. Bots say the darndest things.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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