not nothing

My friend/spirit guide/mentor/student Lisa has given me an assignment to sit still and do nothing. It’s not meditation, it’s not focusing on the breath or trying to quiet the mind, it’s not intended to be anything. She told me she had tried it for 4 hours and it affected her in profound ways. I am giving it a try for 1 hour. Here’s a list of what passed through my consciousness in no particular order

how quiet it was on the street. so quiet it felt like a relief when there was sound to disrupt it, like a car passing by or a dog barking

are those real sounds or imaginary sounds?

the episode of the trashy but sort of entertaining series I’ve been watching on Netflix. Except that the actors were performing the dialogues of my thoughts.

the letter I started to write to Emily and then I started to think that maybe I should do a regular letter writing exchange with Lisa and other willing friends and how that might be a way to get me writing more, or to at least like writing. but first i should really make time to finish that letter to Emly

the list of thoughts i would write in this blog

Ernest Hemingway. I’m not sure why. I never think about Ernest Hemingway. Maybe it was a thought disguised as Ernest Hemingway

The dog issue. whether i should make the bold move of adopting this dog.

And the road trip that would be required to retrieve the dog.

And how the current owner sleeps with the dog and wondering if the dog will expect me to sleep with him, or demand it

New Years Eve and what to do about it and wishing certain friends would invite me to do something

All of these little mini-semi-awake dream scenarios I would drift into that made absolutely no sense and which I cannot remember

The chair my sister and I thought about getting my mother and my mother’s refusal of allowing any new new furniture into her home, even if it was more comfortable for her and made it easier for her to stand up and down

The price of the chair and whether we could find a used one on ebay

cleaning up the clutter in my apartment such as the shirt that lay on rug in front of me.

the wrinkles in the sofa

the clock and then trying not to think about the clock

whether I would be able to handle sitting here doing nothing a second longer. whether I was capable of meeing my 1 hour goal

my breath. my shallow breath. why was it so difficult to follow breath?

stop thinking about breath. that isn’t what this is about

my bladder

J and her expectations of me and our relationship and how she will feel tonight when I don’t call her or don’t make a plan to see her this weekend even though it’s New Years Eve

What a jerk I am for being so mean to her

Gosh, I’m such a jerk

my sister and brother-in-law

last night’s dinner with my sister and brother-in-law and mother

the bad tv i watched with my sister and brother-in-law and mother

how great it was just to sit here in this room and do nothing.

aging

my friend Barrie and a friend of hers i had never seen or met who possibly did not even exist

coffee. i’m out of coffee and I forgot to buy coffee for the 3rd day in a row and maybe the first thing i should do after I eat the pear is to order more coffee

what to do about the wrinkles in the sofa

Gordon Setters

Great Danes

The Great Dane breeder I spent an hour with on the phone yesterday

where to put the dog crate when it arrives

a pear. i had one pear left in the refrigerator and the first thing I would do after doing nothing would be to eat the pear.

there is no such thing as doing nothing. you are always doing something. nothing always counts as something but I don’t think it’s possible for something to count as nothing

my heating bill

my bank account

the deluge of tasks that await me and the expectations that i will complete those tasks when I return to work next week

the dread i feel about the above

whether they would move me to another department or not

forgetting to respond to Bob Levy’s invitation to join him and their friends I have never met on New Years Eve and this ‘beautiful, intelligent woman’ he thought I might match with

The photo he sent of this woman which I was attracted to not in the least bit

how strange attraction is. how some people find some things and some people attractive while others do not. And what right do I have to judge anyone based up their attractiveness, whatever that is

the dishes

all of those plays being performed in my head whenever I am not thinking and how I should try to document them in some way.

maybe the fact that these plays exist is an indication that i am meant to be writing them

that dumb series i was talking about on netflix and what I would watch tonight

i watch way too much television. so much television that the characters on tv shows occupy a good third of my thoughts.

the darkness of the room. the perfect darkness with just the right amount of light emanating from the aquarium

last night’s Chicago Bulls game

shoes. should I buy those shoes?

i’m sure there was more.

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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