I think part of my dream is to find a way to bring myself out into daily life. I enjoy the privacy of my internal experiences, but it’s beginning to occur to me that I haven’t found a reliable means of expressing them. I suppose writing is my means, now that I’m, well, writing this out. There are so many experiences and thoughts that I haven’t a clue how to share, though. How do I bring into being that which defies my language?
Okay, that was a little dramatic.
All the same, here’s an example: I’m sitting on my couch in my living room as I write this. My dog is laying next to me, and is asleep. A minute ago, some noise outside woke her up, and she, still half-asleep, lifted her head to find its source. After a moment, she put her head back down and looked off into the distance as she fell back asleep. I reached over and scritched her belly, and I leaned in a little as to be more focused on the experience of scritching, if that makes sense. I wanted to be in the moment. And in that moment, I felt the silence around us, and I felt an intense sadness and what I assume to be empathy at how she must feel when she’s home alone during the day while we’re away. It was a pre-verbal experience — almost as if I were winding my way through a spontaneously unfolding wormhole of emotion.
So that’s a start.
