Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre
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Smiling…

Kabir kadre|1 month, 4 days ago

Woke to rain again today. Nice long slumber, something about hanging out with Deepak Chopra’s daughter in my dreams.

Morning time was gentle, the air outside still not bothering to play its chimes which instead rested motionless, a deep night blue against the wet green hillside, with glistening pine needles catching the light on the branches in between.

The full moon yesterday was accompanied by cold air and a persistent body discomfort, low-grade autonomic dysreflexia, just enough to produce an ongoing minor sweat throughout the day. Small heaters placed strategically around the house can help to dry and mitigate this inconvenience, but the impact to my focus, coherence, and fluency remains.

Words and phrases like “mind over matter,” “discipline,” “persistence” and “perseverance” danced through my mind as I wrote that. Cutting through distraction and remaining true to one’s intent is a skill and capacity, I think, that can always be refined. This refinement is central to my aspiration; to pierce the clouds of confusion, generations and eons of crashing about, laid bare with pinpoint precision to the sublime and perfect beauty present, unbroken, in every moment.

And yet I suffer distraction, at times and in ways, incoherence, disjointedness, twinges of regret and “not enough…”

I suppose this is both a human condition, and the impact of disability in contrast to an “able-bodied life.” My view of the world is generally plain, things are as they are, and have become based on the causes and conditions of the past, in that world, we awaken to perceived present condition and makes choices which bring about the world of our future, our children’s future, the future we leave to the world.

In that view, time is precious and I have but the moments of my life with which to forge a path of clarity, beneficence, and impact. When the wind blows a certain way, and the clouds rolling in the sky seem somehow to conspire and my body, as if out of nowhere, reacts with this physical downward spiral, I can feel frustrated. It used to be more so.

There were more things and times that brought about this damp discomfort of dysreflexia, and the frustration was harder then to “cut through.” With practice over the years, now the frustration often doesn’t even arise in the first place, though I can’t help still to occasionally wonder whether a peaceful surrender to a seemingly unavoidable condition over time might create complacency.

At some level I know and can feel my health (all of our health) responds more profoundly to a clarity and purity of intent. Words like “discipline,” “persistence,” and “focus” dance in that space.

All of this to say that my work yesterday felt a bit unfocused and scattered, I felt no ability to apply myself to anything of any depth and spent the day completing tasks that could be done in 30 minutes or less, clearing inboxes, and organizing work further days when I might find a richer resource to bring.

The mood of the day was well enough though my Social Connectedness, Positivity, & Positivity Ratio scores all fell on the daily graph. Caitlin was happy to find support from Courtney that she might show her support in person at the rally today, and left with a bright heart on that account. Caroline was in good form, with the usual farmers endurance of all things great and small.

Caroline and I worked a bit on the fence project and did manage to find good hinges for the gate. I surrendered the day early and decided to “have a Friday night,” so Caroline and I picked a movie and let the light fade while we chuckled to the antics of Renée Russo, John Travolta, and Gene Hackman.

The air is cold again today. Courtney, sharing her discipline for Ayurveda, brought me a warm spiced tea and spicy vegetable goulash for breakfast. Looking ahead I opted for my cozy sweater, and while the sense of discomfort is not entirely absent for my physical body, I am finding a bit of optimism with which to greet the day.

The wind has picked up, and the chimes sing loudly through the window. The garage door is open, but the fountain sounds out front seems somehow muffled. Morning rain has dried from the pavement and nearly completely from the porch. No droplets adorn the pine needles bobbing gently in the wind.

I’m thinking about myself today. I’m thinking about the world. There is a letter in my inbox from David, and work to be done. I’m smiling…


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