Back in the box...

Maybe. The writing box. The box in my head.

If my head were a puzzle, it would be cluttered with extra pieces. It's frustrating, disheartening. You may have read a post of mine comparing my processing abilities to listening to two different radio stations at the same time.

Usually, writing is enough to separate the two. When this is the case, I write like hell.

But when writing is not enough to tune out that second radio station, I eventually stop writing altogether because I can't focus on anything long enough to consider writing anything but a chore.

Right now I have a radio station in each ear, and neither of them seem to be playing anything good.

Someone told me recently that they wished that I could stop analyzing and start living, but if I don't set aside at least some time to take stock of things and at least notice the radio stations, maybe even try to make out some of the words,  I'm denying myself the same relief that most people get when they sneeze or urinate.

So, fuck it. I think the last time I was able to sit down with a complete thought was at last week's meditation Meetup, where, admittedly, I should not have had the time for a complete thought about anything other than meditation.

I did raise a few important points to the attention of the group. The group leader used the word 'Dhammah' (sp?) in reference to my discussion and expressed her appreciation for my input. It was about pain and how the physical sensation of pain could be viewed objectively to minimize the effect of pain on the body.

More about this in a later post. I just wanted to provoke the universe into recognizing that I would like some more forward momentum on the writing front, and the clarity to maintain it.