Sunday morning, 2pm. It’s still morning if I haven’t left my coffee drinking chair. Slow days. I don’t have to be anywhere. I don’t have to do anything.
I slept like a mummy waking after a century long nap. Twisting and turning- unraveling between wake and dream. Sometimes the two worlds blur together. I think somewhere I drifted into the void of unconsciousness. Is that where we get our truest rest and reset? My arm wrapped in dream. I couldn’t take it out of the dark waters. Now I fear the blankets will be wet. I just did the laundry.
A pot of coffee deep- is it too late to try meditating? Mind racing like a car on the highway- 70mph, I need to put it in the garage to park, cool down the engine, change oil… I’ve tried so often to start a meditation practice, always racing time- struggling to keep the mind idle for ten-fifteen minutes and I wonder, how to sit still locked in unthought.
Photos & words by Charles Denton
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