I can I know

It’s a beautiful day. I’m sitting outside with my coffee and journaling. It’s Friday morning, 9:26 AM, and 76° F. The birds are singing. It all feels so pleasant right now in this little moment of time. This tiny bubble of space. Expand it too much and the magic disappears. Because the world is on fire and terrible things are happening to a lot of people. And there is also beauty and peace. And hatred and evil. All spread out and mixed together in various patterns of confusion and chaotic order. It’s overwhelming.

---

I’m having a hard day. I’m in my room, on a chair, on my bed, pacing, back on the chair, considering laying down on the floor… It’s 12:28 PM and hot and stuffy. It’s still Friday. My eyes are wet and streaming, my heart’s beating too fast and too slow at the same time, and my breath catches on the jagged edges of thoughts that weren’t supposed to be there. This little bubble of space, it suffocates me. Everything is fine and my world is on fire because my body says panic and my brain says please don’t. There’s a bigger picture here.

---

I’m working today. It started as a desperate bid to take my mind off things that weren’t its business. A feeble attempt to make up for the fact that I’ve worked exactly zero hours Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. It’s Friday today. 3:40 PM. I push and I push to expand the bubble that is my window of tolerance. It works. Not always, not all the time, but it works. Progress is a rollercoaster that goes in every direction but the expected one until the word “expectations” has lost all its meaning and all I am left with is me doing my best. I’m happy. Really happy.

---

It’s been a day. A beautiful, hard, and productive day. Fireworks blasting in the night sky as my fellow Americans celebrate the freedom that apparently is only for some people. It’s the 4^th of July. 9:51 PM and 76° F again. And yes, it’s still Friday. The breeze is pleasant and the noises are jarring and I feed the street cats as I do most every day. They are my friends. I wonder why they don’t run and hide from the sounds of the fireworks. Maybe when you live in constant vigilance, you learn to ignore the lesser of the threats.

---

---