Saturday, July 17, 2021

A SLOW OVEN

  I woke up from a dream I can’t recall but then no matter. I can’t remember a dream that I would take comfort from. Like digging at the bottom of a hole, when you’ve moved a lot of earth, unrewarding work, you realize you are still in a hole. I lay there for what seemed a very long time, mind in gear, someone I eschew who worked their malice against some other one I care about. Then I checked the time, 4:17 a.m. If not strange then interesting, how much easier it is to forgive people who have done their grudge at my expense than against someone I love. 
It comes with age I suspect, like a cow chewing its cud, the mind trying to digest bad news. Awake now, I am consoled by my own sense of well being. It isn’t me on the hook. If nothing else, all the time and spent hopes have left me with meaningful experience and that requires heat. Raw wisdom isn’t wisdom at all, only feelings that have no legs. To make wise, it has to cook in a slow oven, for a long time. 
That sense of meaning and purpose we all long to satisfy, it moves to its own tune. ‘Karma’ sounds mysterious but not really. It is about making the most of the moment. You can be in the game or be a spectator and I’ve never been good a good spectator. So you turn the cards over to see what you’ve been dealt and you play them. They are the cards that you have. Win or lose, the hand plays out and new cards come around. The clock just chimed 5:00 a.m. and, if I have good cards, I can get back to sleep. 

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