Dusty shaman

There is a time to look simply at things, without judgment and fury. There is time to rest. The days may seem motionless as if we were locked in a traffic jam. It doesn’t matter if you zigzag, change lanes to move faster, you end up statistically arriving at the same time at the same place. Our hours can smell like dust. It’s a good thing we have the luxury of caring about it.

After working this morning to make sure that I wasn’t unduly late (because of the dust on the projects, the customers don’t like it too much), I lay down, my eyes immediately caught on this afternoon light that is already gone. I got up several times, drank, ate fruit, went back to bed, wandering the Internet, read with my tablet, talked to a friend, fell asleep, woke up. Nothing worthwhile, just dust that feels good.

What should we do now? Everything and nothing. For a few weeks, my thoughts, words, and actions have been strangely playing a balancing act like a magician and a dreamer. I’m becoming a shaman.