I was meditating just now and I was arriving at my usual “place”. It’s always this lush, verdant riverbank. I’m in white and when I get to that place I know I’m “locked in”. It’s where I can always hear the clearest.
I had tried everything. Smoking. Drinking. Smoking and drinking. My “in case of emergency” pill. Another. I cried. I screamed into a pillow. I writhed and wiggled about thrashing feverishly because nothing I did seem to ebb it one bit.
Today, I quit my job. At least I did in my head. In actuality, I simply gave myself a date. An arbitrary date set in the not-so-distant future where I would submit a resignation letter. A date by which I would have fully worked out at least a rough draft of how I was going to survive the next 365 days.
I stood on the side of interstate 75 examining my car that was just hit by a driver who did not stop. My dad has cancer. I hurried back in the car and immediately thanked God that it was not worse than what it was. Unsightly scratches and a busted taillight. My dad has cancer this was nothing in comparison.