This morning all I’m thinking about is the ocean. Waves crash against the rocks in my head, and get drawn back out by a force I seem to be holding the hand of, and following into abstraction, like a child who follows a parent into a light it hasn’t learned to see around just yet. Seals play in the surf of memory, occasionally looking up as if to say to me you can’t have any of this, Russell, not unlike jealous siblings with new toys, who can’t help rub in like sunscreen how they were always going to win. The unconscious has definitely taken the reigns for a while, and is trying to make me feel some semblance of being part of a family without telling me it’s probable I may never feel like part of one. But that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been balancing my oversized ego on top of loss for so long, and have been dancing on the ice of cold consciousness and managing the constant rolling and leaning of my head along my glacial coping mechanisms for so long, it’s a wonder I haven’t fallen through the thin surface of the self like a child through the surface of a pond after a warm spell. And who knows, maybe I have, and this is what the undead side of an identity looks like. The way I see it, there are some things you can’t put a finger on, can’t reach into for a prize, and run around the house trying to stick yourself to some ink for. I think about people getting in their cars and going to work every morning and wonder just how much control we think we have. Yesterday an asshole hornet chased me off the sidewalk and into a road that just happened to be empty, today a flaming tricycle could fall out of the sky and land on me, a literal and somewhat horrific reminder of the importance of cultivating a beginner’s mind. I guess what I’m trying to say is I think it’s becoming more important as I sink into the deepest end of middle age that I make an effort to enjoy whatever personal event might be holding me under and carrying me back out to the absence and possibility I came from, and that being able to not just go with the flow, but become a part of the flow I’m going with and guided by, seems like a more interconnected and more natural way to deal with disappointment, even if nobody but the big brother ocean inside me will ever know or want to know that.   

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