wishing

(and I thought I'd picked good easy writable song titles! don't prove me wrong!)

Sitting, waiting, and wishing is what I do by myself on The Deck. Okay. Sometimes? I dance. Or nap.

But mostly I sit. I am not good at sitting still. It has been a major impediment in my forays into attempted meditation. I can't sit still and do nothing. I can't think about nothing. I sit, mostly, with a book. Sometimes in front of the TV or computer. Rarely am I able to just sit.

Sometimes, though, on The Deck, I can sit and stare at the tree tops. I don't know exactly where the tree bottoms are for most of the tree tops I can see from The Deck. The power lines sway in the never-ending prairie winds; they make no noise, but the trees do. I wish I knew more about trees, so I could tell you what these are. The ones streetside have rounded leaves and make rustling noises, like a rain stick.

I love it when the wind is high -- I barely feel it, and the tops of the lilacs don't move, but the branches of the tall trees dance wildly.

It's easy to let my mind wander when I'm staring at the sky. Sometimes, I can see birds catching currents far above me. It looks effortless, but takes instincts I cannot imagine possessing. Thoughts and memories and snippets float in my head like the birds in the sky.

I am waiting, as always, for clarity. For those few crystalline moments in which things Make Sense -- where chaos is not the rule and where entropy is momentarily reversed. Or maybe chaos has not left the building -- maybe I have finally fully embraced its presence?

I don't expect a blinding flash of realization -- as my physics professor told me in college, those usually cause bad headaches. But those moments when I finally am tuned to the same frequency as the organize disorder that governs life, those are worth everything.