Germ masks

What are you so afraid of?

This fear you have …

That people will either discover who you really are


Never discover who you really are

To be truly authentic and present in this world requires accepting and moving above and beyond fear


Maybe to be truly authentic means just being present and not recoiling from non-harmonious situations that lead one to be much less than present.

Or present but a diminished kind of presence

Which is really no presence at all.

To be counting the diminishing years is a state of complete non-presence. About as non-present as a human can get.

I wonder if there are any animals out there who fall into this sort of trapped mindset. Even the animals who know they are doomed. I don’t think they dwell in it. They would probably laugh at me for dwelling in it.

But would it stop me from dwelling in it?

Somehow I think not.

Instead of dwelling in it, the animals might suggest that I look around and notice what is around me.

Clearly the animals have never taken a ride on the commuter rail. They might recoil at the sight of whoever sits down next to them.

It might be some male marking his territory. Why does it always have to be a male? Why can’t these males finally get the message that they are not welcome, claiming the seat next to you on the commuter rail.

This is such a huge universe and there are so many many other places to sit.

But no matter where you sit to avoid them. These males. They always follow.

Quite often they are wearing a noxious cologne.

And quite often they are sneezing and coughing and not covering their mouths and you get so mad at yourself for allowing today to be the day when you forgot to wear your germ mask.

Although a nurse just told me that the germ masks don’t really protect again germs. So I asked, do they at least provide psychological protection?

Protection from what? Asked the nurse

Protection from everything I’m afraid of.

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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