We are in the middle of a summer that has been, for me, surreal and dumb. It’s a summer for being nobody’s anything and questioning everything. It has been hot and sweaty, or cool. It has been muggy—like today—with air you can almost grab in your fist. But the weather has so little to do with it.
Very often now I don’t know if I like myself. It’s because I have decided to reexamine everything that I like, asking why I like it and whether I want it. Mindfulness. It’s like removing stitches sometimes, shuffling bricks; and I’m conscious, too, of how much thought should actually be allowed versus how much thought I should simply let be. How much just is, without being dissected, cut down the middle, peeled back and held into place by tiny pins?
Even as I may not like this moment or the last or the next, or myself. I do accept these things. I allow them with respect. They teach me. And there is some comfort in lessons.
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