anywhere.

 

when i meditate it doesn’t matter where i am. i could be in india or canada, the himalayas or the gatineaus. it doesn’t matter and i often don’t even know. it’s the space, a world, life. 

before writing those two lines i was somewhere, didn’t exactly know where, near quebec city. having driven all day i sat in the back of my van and very soon i could’ve been anywhere. but, eventually, i opened my eyes, jotted down those lines before eating a veggie sub and then feeling kinda sick. a year earlier i’d made the same drive and i‘d fallen ill after eating a veggie panini in trois riviere. 

anyway, i knew exactly where i was by then. i was in my body and not happy about it, or my body was not happy to have me. darkness robbed me of the last glimmer of light, hope and i was clearly in trouble. my stomach ached, carcass vibrated with fever. was this covid? how? covid’s supposed to be really quite horrible and this was all of that. was this carbon monoxide? c.o. poisoning seemed reasonable. It musta been that sandwich.

i wandered and wondered, not certain what to do, had to endure it on my own, not that i had much choice. i wondered and wandered, around a strange town’s empty night-time streets, not really able to stand, sit and lying down was outta the question. it wasn’t my worst night, but up there. an old lady appeared from out of a mist as i was circling a small parking lot like a caged creature. she chattered on as i continuously motioned for her to stay away and soon, no doubt thinking me rude, she disappeared as easily, just before dawn.

so i turned the van around, drove home with windows wide, feeling a bit, well, not quite human, maybe reptilian. but i stopped often, drove slowly and by nighttime i was at the wakefield hospital on a stretcher. it was a nice stretcher with flannel sheets and good people scurrying around. and apparently i had food poisoning.

by early morning i coulda been anywhere, in that space, a world, life. it may not matter, but i knew i was home and happy. dawn came in eventually, folded up the dark, pulled back the blinds so i could check out the beauty all around: the birch-trees lining the front, cedar all along the side. dawn pointed out the mist, seemed strangely friendlier this time. nice to be home.