A whirling whirl. My little life. Filled, yes, it seems. But with duty. And a suffocating sense of responsibility. And I find myself wondering what would happen if I just stopped. Disentangled myself from the mediocrity of today and tomorrow and the day after that. The bond, the petrol card, the tedious round of traffic and choosing meals for one. And found a plane ticket. To somewhere. Anywhere. Where I’m unknown and small talk is still just a temporary connection, not a mask.
But instead I sit here. Clutching at pockets of quiet. Finding small moments to contemplate. Searching for small joys to focus on (else I smash all the glassware and burn it all to the ground). Like the way the light moves across the curtains. Or the early flowering of an orchid.
La Dolce Vita 
Whether you realize it or not, that’s very Buddhist of you. Except for the part where you’re smashing and burning everything to the ground. That’s an altogether different philosophy.
Ommmm…nommmm…nommm.
PS business in NYC in September. Fancy a cuppa cawfee?
Still laughing at The Unbearable one’s comment.
Impressed and jealousified by your orchids
I want to know if I can start a new philosophy. After all, burning *is* a kind of enlightenment.
orchids always remind me of chicken faces. i am going to be of no help to you, dear. i am kinetic by choice – to avoid very introspective thinking that leads me to paralysis.
oh, great, now I’ll never be able to look at an orchid the same way. BAWK!
She’s rude, isn’t she?
Dais, you help me all the time. Now cluck off, chicken face, you’re scaring the flowers!
Nice flowers (pronounced with that flat nasal tone – ‘naas’). Yours? Glad to see you’re still blogging. And Zen blogging too! Almost a haiku there.
They are mine. Well, sort of. LB’s mum gave them to me. And I left them in my garden. And ignored them somewhat. And now they’re going mental with blooms. I love a plant that doesn’t require much 🙂
Are those orchids growing in your garden darlin’?
they are indeed, Nursie. They’re in a pot, technically, but in my patch of tiled homeground 😀
There’s no mediocrity in those beautiful orchids. Did you grow them?
I wish I could take credit, QueenW, but they grew all by themselves. I only occassionally remember to water my plants, so it’s a blooming miracle all round 🙂
They do look like chicken faces! They do!
There are all sorts of lovely bed and breakfasts around here, and I fantasize about spending a lovely quiet weekend alone in one. The only problem is, that if alone too much I have a tendency to become a psycho killer. I remember the last time… Well. We won’t talk about that.
I know just the place you could spend a weekend…right next to my boss’s house, now that I think about it 🙂
i’ve had the same thoughts from time to time… about packing it all in, pondering the meaning of the many things that hook us into this life… just so much ballast. what if we tossed it all off and became unmoored, slipping away from the shores of this life? stick a pin in a map and go there? get lost. or found.
but then there are chicken faces that grow by themselves. and light that slides…
I suppose, the trick, is to manage a bit of both. With smashing the dishes every time 😀
They put you alone in life and alone you stay
Until the light dims and all the savage spirits eat your flesh and bones. And there is nothing left but the shape of a shaddow on the ground.
lurves me some orchids! unfortunately….they are highly toxic to cats. (which i found out after my old bitch harley ate one of the flowers.) i no longer grow orchids…. 😦
Really? No wonder the local cats aren’t visiting anymore. The plus side? They ain’t poo’ing in my potplants either.
I never noticed the chicken faces before today, but they are definitely there! Now I have to go check other orchids to see if they have chicken faces as well.
In the betwixtwhiles, I share your moments of wishing to break things. Sometimes I look at all the extra coffee mugs and imagine them crashing into the stone wall in the carport. Whenever I think about smashing crockery, I always imagine how it would be to clean it up when I was done, since that is the sort of super-responsible thing that got inculcated into me by my dear mother. So before I disappeared to the airport, I would have to tidy up after my tantrum. I think.
Maybe if I was really having a tantrum I would leave all the smashed bits behind. Anyway, the living things that grow without a lot of bothering about them are some of my favorites, and I am very jealous that you live in an environment where orchids can subsist on your patio! They would be dead dead dead here if I neglected them!
Whahahaha! Me too. But then again, I think I break things differently, if I’m very honest with myself. I break things that should never be broken.
“Clutching at pockets of quiet” is such a wonderful line. I find myself fascinated, it’s the most evocative thing I’ve read today.