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My thoughts on writing and other random things as they come up. |
| This is a blog where I keep my thoughts and daily comments about writing and WDC. |
Rivermama   has challenged me to write 15 minutes a day for the next 2 weeks. In return, she's going to finish her novel. That seems like a small thing for me to do. Oh - IF ONLY! She also challenged me to find 15 minutes for mediation - just "me" time, in each day. I'm 30 minutes behind already! So I decided to write a story about a woman who was looking for fifteen minutes in her day for meditation! Here goes! Jerri Scruggins was a strange sort of woman. Sometimes I thought she was one of those women who was afraid to be alone with themselves, so they filled their days with unnecessary business: Volunteering to be homeroom mom, hosting a neighbor kid's birthday party at her pool, serving up hours a day at the Humane Society, cutting coupons for the church. But the day I met her she was sitting alone at the park, pigeons scattered around her, a book listlessly falling off her lap. She appeared to have fallen asleep. I sat down next to her on the bench, then reached over to catch the book before it fell. She sat up quickly then leaned away, as if I had struck her. "What?" "Ma'm, I was just trying to catch your book before it fell." "Oh, I was trying to meditate. They say it's helpful for Type A personalities...." Her voice trailed off and she looked a little lost. She set the book beside her, upside down and away from me, so I couldn't see the title. She brushed away dirt from the arms of her London Fog slicker, and straightened a stray lock that had escaped from a tightly wrought bun. "I see. Maybe I can help. I'm a psychologist." I didn't mention I was a police psychologist, just that I was one. She nodded at me, and bit her lip, considering. "I was just trying to find 15 minutes, and this park looked like a great place, and I could feed the pigeons at the same time, and maybe read a bit after." "Multi-tasking. Hm. I think the point of meditation is to NOT do anything else, just sort of blank out." "I still don't get the point. It seems to be a waste of time." The woman frowned, and I could see the tension lines in her forehead increase. "Although I'm not very good at not getting things right." I could almost see her body start to vibrate at the thought. Wow. This woman was wound very tight. "How about we try a relaxation technique I learned in school? Maybe that will help you meditate?" Her eyes darted left and right, then back up into my eyes. "Okay. But I only have fifteen minutes." "It won't take too long. Close your eyes." I started my normal relaxation therapy voice, and droned on. "First, sit up straight, and breathe deeply. Breathe in through your nose. Fill your stomach with air as if it was a huge balloon, Then breathe out through your nose. Concentrate completely on your breathing." The woman frowned, her eyes closed, and concentrated. I motioned to the swat team to come up behind us. "Now, clench and relax your toes. Imagine your toes getting warmer, and tingling." Her voice was a mere whisper as I continued. "I'd do anything to get fifteen minutes of peace." I wondered if that included murdering the UPS man. The one we had found partially buried in her back yard. The swat team surrounded us, and I stepped slowly away from the bench. Jerri sighed deeply, still as if she was in a trance. "Fifteen minutes, that's all I needed, was fifteen minutes." "Jerri, hold out your arms straight ahead of you, as if you were a zombie." Jerri put her hands out, and the swat team captain clicked on the cuffs. "You're going to get your fifteen minutes Jerri, and more." Jerri opened her eyes, nodded at me as if she knew all along, and said "Thank God." (My fifteen minutes are up!) |
| Thank you for this morning God! We had a long night of rumbles from thunder, then quiet showers. After the rain, there was a gorgeous sunrise. My cat stretched out on the roof of my car, King of all he surveyed. The sun rising behind him was beautfiul. Then, I had news that a revised version one of my poems "Invalid Entry"  has been accepted by Intima, a journal of narrative medicine for publication in September.I had completely forgotten I had submitted the work. Today I am thankful for the chance to take a deep breath and appreciate that which has gone before, and the quiet still beauty of those still waiting in the shadows. May they too have their turn to dance in the rain. Have a wonderful day. C |
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