It's been a long lazy day. I got up early, but I've taken a couple of long naps. I've hardly done anything aerobic today. The general fatigue I wasn't aware of until the steroids took it away was on my mind frequently today. I felt sort of light and giddy, but lazy. I was sort of in the mindset to tiptoe through the tulips, but my body felt so laid back I found it difficult to take the first step toward starting my usual little projects.
I went to the strip mall that the Wal-Mart SuperCenter is located to shop for some groceries and take a walk along the front of the stores in the mall. There is a broad sidewalk with hardly any foot traffic that goes the entire length of the storefronts. I don't have to watch where I'm going so closely, and I can do a walking meditation without many interruptions, and the flat concrete keeps me from stumbling over obstacles I'd encounter if I walked back in the woods here at the house. Besides, that environment ain't conducive to bugs like walking on the family farm is.
I only made one round along the storefronts and back to the SuperCenter. Then, I went inside to see about buying some food to eat. I'm eating nothing but sandwiches recently. Lots of bread. Lots of glutin. Lots of cold cuts and mayonnaise. Lots of burgundy and cheese to chase it down with. Today, I even ate half an apple. I like to have gagged it tasted so healthy.
I ended up with four or five packages of cheese I wouldn't have if I'd had to pay for them. I ended up with them as the result of their being leftovers from a reunion of a couple of old friends who tried to impress each other with their couth and daintiness. They were both from outta town, Neither of them wanted the cheeses and the apples in their baggage, nor the fairly good-sized picnic basket they put the stuff in. In fact, it was offered to me in a way such that it would have seemed ungrateful to have refused.
I'd been reading in that book Blink the night before. One of the metaphors in that book the author used involved the rules of improv acting which states that all offers must be accepted or the show can't go on. Refusing an offer in improv kills the gig. I was thinking about that when I took the basket and the leftover food. I'm poor. I was glad to get it.
I've sampled three of the cheeses so far. The smoked gouda seemed especially tasty. One of the cheeses was sort of hard and crunchy. I didn't really taste it all that well until I'd ground it down into a fine paste with my teeth. When that happened I realized it was designed that way. It tasted good in the long run, and I ate another pretty good-sized slice with some grainy bread and pinot noir.
I put the cheese in the refrigerator, but I might not should have done that to get the best taste from it. I encountered some information that said many cheeses last a long time and taste better if they're not refrigerated. I just don't know which ones. So, I put all of them in the refrigerator and let God sort it out.
This crazy woman thinks I expect God to behave in certain ways, and claims I'm frustrated because I'm not getting God to see things my way or something like that. She's obviously projecting. Obvious? Sure, she's a licensed preacher of a recognized church. It's her that's on the God trip, formally even, but she projects it on to me. It's not like I mind if that keeps her happy. For some reason I simply don't want to be on this woman's shit list. I suspect she's even more powerful than she suspects. It'd be "Feets! Don't fail me now!"
"God" is kind of Johnny-come-lately with me. I'm more prone to be moved by my innate curiosity than world saviors and their daddies. It's always been curiosity first and God second (or later) for me. There was another first element I called variously "will" or "volition" that shared power with my curiosity and presence. I figure i brought those traits with me when I showed up on Earth as a hollow, radiant point of light. God was just something I created in my own image at least a billion years after this pearl-like entity arrived.
I had a vision when I was thirty years old that brought the entire subjective travail into conscious awareness. I ain't possessed by cosmic consciousness, just an extended version of my own story and all the life forms I made myself into trying to get back out of here streaking through the heavens again. I experience the world as the result of my own creative energy. When I encounter some form of life I once made myself into I don't need a weighty lexicon to know I'm basically everything I ever was. I know how I got here, and everything that has happened to what got here, and possess a pretty good idea of what's gonna happen if I can trick the Eagle into letting me slip around the back side of nothingness. I gotta found something to offer as a token. A not-me that has no nayme. Clone.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
