I woke up a bit off-kilter this morning, tilted 37 degrees off my axis.
I felt that odd buzzing that surrounded my head, like a cloud of tiny invisible wasps were stringing up live electrical wires on a static-ridden pre-thunderstorm afternoon.
My belly was distended with the To Be Continued… tag from last night’s episode of Too Many Chocolate Chip Cookies Before Bed.
I attempted my regular 10 to 15 minute morning meditation, but to little avail. Visions of sugarplums participating in guerilla warfare danced in my head. That place of stillness that is the objective of meditation was not to be this morning. Myriad thought excepts, flashes, and randomness continued to tug at the shirttails of my mind.
I went upstairs to get ready for work, doing my damndest to stay in the moment. Trouble was trying to find the moment. I felt like I was chasing the moment like a Kleenex in a windstorm. The moment was that guy that sees you at the grocery store who still owes you 50 bucks. The moment was a moving target.
I am tired. My head is in a thick fog. When I finally find myself in the moment, it is a moment filled with the thick goo of lethargy, lack of enthusiasm and a numb mind. As I lackadaisically peruse the blogosphere and the tweets of the morning, I see a message: The only way out is through. It makes me smile. I don’t have to clear the haze. I don’t have to be ready to ride the bronco. I just have to be in it. A good friend of mine wrote a song from which I quote this line: “It’s definitely okay to have a fever”. If I resist this feeling, this morning cloudiness, without extracting the value, without embracing the beingness of it, I won’t be okay. So I will go through it. I am tired. I am out of focus. And it’s alright.