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402 days. 402 (plus or minus… mostly minus) posts.

Day 2: Seamless Sureness

Earlier this week, I heard part of a posthumous NPR interview with Irish philosopher John O’Donohue.

During the interview, he said, “Meister Eckhart said that there is a place within the soul that neither time nor space nor flesh nor no created thing can touch. And I take that to mean that there’s a place within each of us where no one has ever got to us, where we are undamaged, and where’s there’s a seamless sureness and natural confidence and tranquility. And I think the intention of beauty, and of the spiritual life and of the imagination, is to take us as frequently as possible to that inner kind of place.”

Where there’s a seamless sureness.

Soothing and sticky words.

They suggest that everyone comes into the world with something that can’t be affected by it. Whatever muck and beauty happens in a life, there’s a part of every living being that stays constant. Seamless. It exists before we are born and is unruffled when we die. We all have it and it doesn’t belong to any of us.

Maybe one of the points of life is to let that unnamable “inner kind of place” peek to the surface every once in a while, so we all get to see it and recognize it in each other. We can share a little “my inner place sees your inner place” high five. Or fist bump. Whatever the cool kids are doing these days.

(I went to yoga today.)

Day 1: Brian is Alive

Brian Boitano survived without me for three full days. I was relieved to come home and find him alive and only slightly delirious.

I don’t think he’s quite as hearty as my favorite fish, Buster, who lived to be approximately 150 (five) years old. Buster was sort of my fish soul mate. He liked to travel, was fiercely independent, ate happily and appreciated a good nap. He seemed to particularly enjoy Law and Order SVU. Either that, or the “dun dun” sound upset his tiny fish ears to the point of activity.

Brian seems to be a little more sensitive. He’s afraid of his food and he usually misjudges the amount of force he’ll need to consume it. Although he is generally good-natured, he panics when he reaches the edge of his bowl and swims as hard as he can into what must look like the infinite vastness of my apartment. I’ve conducted multiple experiments to figure out if he’s actually swimming at his own reflection, but my results are inconclusive.

Most of my friends have cats and/or babies. For now, I’m pretty satisfied with my fish.