Dangerous Equilibrium

These days, I find myself waking up to brush my teeth while sitting infront of Youtube videos for minutes on end. The electric toothbrush intermittently halts at the end of its cycles before I hit the start button again. And quietly, I'm gargling my own toothpaste foam in my mouth. I've also gotten in the habit of turning on a new music playlist whenever I dust, vacuum, cook, read, write e-mails, play games, draw rainbows, or eat food, thinking my time then will be 30-percent more efficiently spent. And perhaps, it is the better way to spend it. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. But nowadays, I'm trying to set up time for one thing at a time. A date with my guitar, then my book, then my toothbrush, then my food, then my music, and so on. I think there's joy in simplicity and having that full engagement in just one task at a time.

It's one-zero-zero-one-one-zero minutes past one-zero-one-zero.

The problem with pain is that pain is an ambiguous symptom, physiologically and emotionally. It doesn't necessarily entail a specific problem, because healing is just as painful as the initial pain that caused it. Yes, healing is painful, too. Almost all treatments and therapy require personal sacrifice in proportion to the damage done. But through the process, the fight, one progresses and heals. It's not easy though; healing requires one to confront the problem and often re-experience the pain. It is necessary and essential, yet we fail. I've failed many times. And failure to confront can be debilitating. Yet, it can be rather comforting. At least, much more so than confrontation. So we continue to live our lives, devoid of pain. We believe we've won over it because we have stopped feeling pain when in fact, we've become numb. The real problem is when we don't feel pain when we ought to, when we've become partial to our own selves. A progression in life that's defined by stillness. A dangerous equilibrium.

I hate crying, but now and then I feel the need to cry.