It ain't over until the fat lady is muted. That's what I've learned after one week of meditation. It's really hard to shut yourself up and quiet your thoughts enough to hear a pin drop in your head. Funny thing is, when it comes to evicting that mad gibberish into writing - I find myself staring at a blinking cursor while my fingers are on infinite standby. We've all done it. Brain constipation, I call it.
I think it was my father who let me in on that secret: if you do five things the same every day, one new thing will occur to you. Apart from the meditation, what I've done the same every day is have three pieces of chocolate with my coffee. It has occurred to me that I need new pants that are roomier.
I miss my dad. I see him reflected in Zuki's facial expressions, temper tantrums and the way he can't open a simple bag of chips. Although my dad wasn't an "air head," he certainly wasn't "handy." The air head is endearing, though. For homework, Zuki was reading aloud the "Greenwich Guide To Day And Night." It's slightly above his reading level, but I figured the challenge was beneficial. Plus, I get a good laugh at things like this, "The Earth spins on Texas."
Zuki, I believe the book says 'axis' but Texans would probably agree with you.
He gets these crazy writing topics in school: "Would you prefer to live in New York present or past?"
The teacher meant like "pre-sliced-bread" past. Past enough when they had cameras to take pictures to show you just how shitty life was back then.
I explained how they had no cars zipping down the street so the kids played in front of their stoop but they also had no playgrounds.
"No restaurants, either?" - Nope.
"No haircutters?" - Nope.
That stickers would impact their quality of life so much made me feel old. That was his deciding factor - he would rather live in the present. Stickers was even the closing sentence of his composition. If that were my paper, it would say - Well, I'm not going back to sanitary belts, that's for sure!
Speaking of going back, Samu has gone back to his "Weiner and Tushie Show." But he hasn't pissed his pants. I must be saying a different trigger word - there's time to find that out.
This is the last installment on meditation week. But it's the week that's over, not the journey. I feel like Dorothy, on a mission to find "home" with new friends who humbly want a brain, a heart and the courage not to piss his pants. Were it not for her old farm house landing on the confidence-stripping-witch, she may have never ventured with these guys to find a man who travels by hot-air balloon. Although...I've always known that these Bozos lived on my farm since life was black and white.