I spat out seeds from an orange in the sink. I just can't do the citrusy seedlings; it's enough that they're sour. I like sweet oranges and tangerines, most of all I like the clementine.
I couldn't deal with them and threw them out in the backyard. The soil will benefit and the ants will benefit and the spiders will benefit and everything living will benefit from something my mouth refused. And it felt right.
I finally feel right.
I got these small gaps of feeling right, and then feeling fine, and suddenly forgetting what is right. You get used to feeling fine, and with fine translates to not feeling at all, and apathy, I think, is very selfish. It's evil.
Instead of hiding in a plantation outhouse, the leper comes out and says "I am a man". I am somebody.
It's no longer enough to realize, it's only enough to be present. In every moment, thought, movement, dream, spoken word, and every stomach pang.
The old one says to be here now.
I'm here, I say.
Let me get young, but never restless. God willing, never bored.
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