further congestions

I visited the Chinese herbal acupuncturist recommended by 2 different friends who have never met, although they are both licensed social work counselors. His name is Dr. Feng. He kind of did this speed-reading scan of my body, and he knew exactly which needles needed to place where. And just the right amount of this oil like substance to place on my forehead to open up my blockaded sinuses.

And I lay there for 30 minutes in this drably sparse room, no incense candles or massage music. Trying to focus on breath and presence and conversations going on all around me. Another moment where I thought, well if I happened to die right now, that would be ok. Not thinking about death in a morbid sense. More in the sense of trying to understand such things as consciousness…  how you know when you are alive versus how do you know when you are dead? And is there a difference?

And then I read the news about the atrocities of the worlds, especially in the Gaza Strip… the collateral damage of deaths, civilian and non-civilian. i can’t even begin to fathom these horrors.When I read or hear about these casualties, they are clumped together as data: 140 deaths  130 civilians, 12 children. Just the word itself, casual-ty. It’s too much to comprehend. I want to know about each of them, the forces in their lives that brought them to such horrific ends. I want to know something about each of the people impacted by each of these lives. I don’t want to be numbed, but sometimes numbing is a protection against drowning in it. I guess that is what data and statistics are for.

I certainly don’t feel that the way I am living now is leaving much of an impact… in the sense of making a difference, in the sense of being able to protect and console people, even within my own sphere. I want to make a difference, but it takes a certain kind of courage which I struggle to find.

congested thoughts of a congested body.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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