I’m at an online workshop
called “A Reflective Workshop
on Listening to Yourself”.
I’m sitting in front of my laptop
and am asked to examine
my streams of consciousness.
Ten minutes
to quietly ‘watch’
thoughts that wander.
These earphones
are uncomfortable;
expensive, but pokey.
I can’t make out
the shape of the structure
that holds a plant
in the facilitator’s
zoom background.
My fan is running too fast.
I’m trying
to anticipate
the next thought.
Tomorrow
is a visit
to the orthopedic surgeon.
I am glad
I picked up a pen to write,
instead of keying these thoughts in.
Ten minutes
is a LOT of time
to sit in silence.
I don’t know how to
sit in silence;
my movements feel underutilized
like, if I don’t
produce thought or movement
I’m not fulfilling my potential.
Ten minutes should end soon.
My thumb hurts –
it seems to prefer typing.
Come to think of it,
I don’t use my thumb
a lot during typing. Strange.
I’m done.
I’m reading my writing now
and some words are indecipherable.
I discover that
my streams of consciousness
are like experiencing life at close quarters.
