from
mosaic (4) by freda karpf
She had been finding
solace in black tea. She took her philosophy in an ambient way. Some notions that came by her as an adult,
about being alone in the universe, meaninglessness and all, didn’t wash with
her. She felt very connected to the world, to life and loving and animals and
to spirit. She had her moments that felt
as if it were just her naked ass and the empty bell of space. But she never felt alone in the world for too
long.
~
She did resent the way she felt crowded by
loss and ambition. But there will be shifts in the barometer, like yesterday,
and everything she’s feeling seems to change.
Simple ribbons of thought come like a dream and evaporate just as
easily. She can become aware of how
solitary she feels and not even think of her cat Stoner or the sounds she might
hear which reminded her that she does have some kind of a community and wasn’t
alone in the world. Or that her heart is sometimes full from taking pleasure in
the simplest things, like the shapes and shadows of steps, the metal clasp in a
clothespin; or that she had some family she felt close to and could hang her
existence on. Or shifting again, she
will find herself surprised at how tilted her view of the world. She will feel
uncomfortable, difficult and strange all within the same home that can feel
like a bus station or a prison of thoughts.
Rumi wrote, “Why, when the world is so big did you wake up in a prison
of all places?”
~
She couldn’t remember why she woke up in a
prison. Her memory was a bouillon cube dissolving as the morning light filtered
into her room. There was no focal point only different memories adding their
flavors to the day. Her only solace before sleep captured her was the thought
of her morning tea. Just as the universe was predicted to die a heat death, she
wondered if her desire would spiral down to the cold she remembered from her
distant lover. It was in the morning when she could look at her lover’s back
and steal a tender moment.
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