rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

A Post About Nothing

Rising, the half moon tilts, telling the time of year as quarter to summer. The night remains cool enough, and I wear a jacket when I go out to be washed by the dim light. Only a few flocks of migrating birds sent their farewell calls to the woodland early last evening, and the remainder of the night has held its peace, the sky empty of all but moon and stars, the trees unruffled by breeze, the vacant streets untrodden by anything other than creeping shadows that mark earth's turning. Such a night is for quiet contemplation, and I spent it so, leaving the world to itself, making of the airy silence a room vast enough for my thoughts to drift where they would -- an aimless indulgence the equivalent of lying on a beach all day listening to waves and watching the gulls fly. It is a vacation, of sorts, and I find the vacancy refreshing. There was a time when I was unable to empty the world from my mind in this way, and my thoughts grew stale and perpetually anxious. It was like never bathing, and never having clean clothes to wear. It was like being itchy and reeking. I don't know how I caught on to the fact that the mind needs, at the least, to take a brief shower each day, and from time to time spend a few hours floating on some large body of restorative waters, but once I discovered this truth, the idea of not doing this became repellant. It is impossible to function in the daily world unless you leave it now and then. I have not read, I have not planned, I have not toiled, I have not imagined the future, I have not regretted the past. I have done nothing, and it is like discovering the concept of zero, the void which liberates endless possibility. A night well spent, I'd say.
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