Assert Itself Quietly

Best time of day?  Arguably it’s the moment after you return from the gym.  You’ve done the daily needful and the physical work is no longer pending.   My heart is still pulsing from my modest routine.   I’m glad the organ still responds when prompted. 

I’m staring up at the light fixture in my home office.  I did not choose it.   This odd mesh of tinsel preceded me.  It casts a not unappealing webbing of shadows across ceiling.  But it is assertive and unnecessary. 

Like most of the light fixtures in the house, this one looks a lot like a very young girl’s or very old lady’s clip-on earring.  The fixture in the dining room and the living room are much worse.  I have books I’m reading and deals I’m closing and homework I’m helping children complete and I am not prioritizing light fixtures.  So I’ll probably live with them for some time. 

Now I’m suddenly sleepy.  How did that happen?  My heart was racing just a moment ago.  I am listening to a Horace Tapscott’s “Lighthouse” from 1979, which is otherwise frenetic, but just slowed down and perhaps my heart followed this instruction.  It must be this posture I’ve adopted, for comfort, which has my chin resting on my chest and the laptop on the lap, legs stretched out in front of me, as I write. 

Awareness has now chased the tiredness away.  It doesn’t like being studied.  It prefers to assert itself quietly.