I’ve been thinking about the expectation of impediment alot lately, so I was glad to find, continuing in the tactic of mining old journals, this passage from 7/27/05. It’s somehow both disheartening and comforting when I read a journal from 6 years ago and see that I was dealing with the same things. But I’m encouraged at the prospect that, as someone once suggested to me “You’re not circling; you’re spiraling.”
The visco foam support pillow gives you room to have a neck. It acknowledges the contours of the body instead of pretending that the head just continues in some straight line from the body.
Johnny said, “No human book ever touched my soul like this.” (what book was he talking about? was it The Wild Braid?)
No human book? Is this based in a way of talking about the Bible, or other sacred books, as not human?
Somehow this seems related to the conversation on the N train one Sunday morning about not carrying my church. A man asked me, “Does this train go over or under the bridge?” I still don’t know what he meant by under the bridge. If it went under, there was one church he could go to and if it went over, another.
Are you going to church? he asked. I don’t go to a church, I told him. I carry my church.
He said, You can’t carry your church. It’s too heavy.
I said, I don’t want to go to any church that’s too heavy for my own body. I might have better said, I am a church. Or, I’m in church now.
Putting the subway card into the reader, walking through the turnstile is my sacrament.
I’m always a little surprised when the LED readout tells me GO. My habit is to expect an obstacle. It’s as if it’s saying, Sorry, I’m not going to collude in your paltry ideas of imposed limits. Here: what if I just let you go through? Then what? I could go anywhere from this turnstile. I have an Unlimited card. At least for 30 days.