If I could describe to you the currents in my mind, you would probably nod with agreement. You might relate it your own currents that pulse within, swimming around your head and occasionally dipping into other organs when it's too big for your brain to contain. To describe how I feel, I start at the zero, zero, zero coordinate in my brain. The pulse goes out to my forehead and then down to my nose. It splits from there to the two sides of my jaw that stay stiff all day because they clench whenever I feel stress. Thence it shoots out a ahead of me and performs daring lunges and meager ascents all the live-long day. It drags the rest of me along with it until I get tired and fall behind. Then it patiently trots back and awaits my rejuvenation.
If I could reign in that current I would tether it to many ropes and then force it to spread in all directions in front of me, so that I might follow whatever bit of it I pleased, grabbing another reign and pulling myself left and right, like the feeling you get when you use a motor boat's velocity to accelerate you over the wake while water skiing. That terrific pull diagonally-forward leads you to a new point of braced anticipation. Though my course is inevitably set by external factors, I would like to create more the illusion of a spectrum of activity rather than the line that is reality.
It's hard for any of us to be errant, but it beats following that boring old rising and falling pulse that composes the daily rhythm which I've thus described. I need to find a way to live paragraph two. I sometimes feel it then loose it. Maybe I need to meditate, maybe I need to dance. All I know is that the minor adjustments aren't doing it for me. I'm thirty-two and I all too often feel like the sixteen-year-old who still sits in his room alone and wishes a friend would call.
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