AD.

As the therapist visited Smith this morning, I set my coffee on the lip of the bathtub and stepped into the water. I sat down and finished the black coffee in the cup, blue water in the tub. I curled up on my back like a fetus and wrapped my arms around my legs. My attention was drawn to a drop of water hanging from my arm, then to a gentle sliding down further into warmth, further down the tub. I felt bubbles coalesce on my skin and pop as I slid. I felt the soap scum from previous baths as process art, valued.

As I lathered, I wondered about how good people can actually be. I wondered about how good I can be, when I have difficulty even controlling my appetite, deciding to bike rather than use the car, etc.

I decided that I could treat my diet as a metaphor for hope that people can learn how to behave better. Possibly my project could be to eat no more than I need for sustenance. I imagined myself slimming down to a sylph, some kind of being sustained by spirit. I imagine myself not eating any more animals. I imagine myself eating as locally as possible. I imagine myself staying away from factory foods. I imagine invisible levers that extend from me into the wheels that run the welfare of the planet.

Then I’d had enough of the water even though some warmth was left. If I’d wait for the warmth to dissipate, my energy would go with it. I decided it was time to dedicate myself to my vocational hours. I thought of that story I’d read of a Zen monk waking up in the morning as though tossing off his slippers–waking fresh and ready. I want to be fresh and ready for work. I am fresh and ready for work.

Lady

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