metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Why am I in this room? I have been wanting to write. Thinking my entries, a myriad of thoughts and feelings, only to be forgotten before I am at computer and ready to write. Where do my thoughts go when they leave me, never to return? Most don't return, you know. I have many, many thoughts. But, when they leave, they are gone forever. Sometimes one will come back to me, kindly lingering long enough for me to embrace it. Sometimes they stay long enough for me to fully know them, and come to a fullness of understanding. Usually, though, they just tease me with tantalizing glimpses of thoughts. Sparkling sage anecdotes, too ephemeral to grasp, to touch, to hold. In other words, I can't remember a damned thing anymore. I know everyone has had the experience of walking into a room and forgetting why. Is there a term for this? I know it is a universal experience. Usually, though, a person can walk back from whence they came and remember what it was that took them to the other room. Lately, even this trick does not remind me. It is just a mystery. I have come to accept this situation, with a stoicism that is unlike me. It feels like a gentle acceptance of my shortcomings, which are getting shorter by the second. I am being nice to myself. What an odd experience. This is not to say I don't mourn whatever mission I was on when walking to the other room. I am sad because it must have been something at least a little important to me for me to get up off my lazy ass and walk to the other room for it. However, it was not important enough for me to ever remember what it was. This may have saved my life on many occasions. I don't know. I just can't remember. 4:45 p.m. - 2003-09-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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