A Pause

He pulled the car over to the curb. One hand on the wheel, one on the phone, waiting for a response, staring at his last message. His heartbeat became overwhelming. Sudden claustrophobia struck. He shook his arms out and tried to engage the muscles in his legs. A traffic cop pulled up behind him. Looking in the mirror, he cursed under his breath, then pulled back into traffic to search for another place to wait.

No. 171

Reset

Shoulders down and back, arms extended to the ground. Tense the muscles in the chest, shoulders, and upper back. Brace the core. Trace the journey of the breath: nostril to trachea to lungs to alveoli to blood, then back. Relax the muscles and exhale. Count backwards from ten.

No. 169

Punctuality

I gave the host my boss’s name and sat at a table with five place settings, feeling rare to be the first to arrive, and right on time. The diner had few customers, and the two waiters ambled from one to another, refilling coffee mugs, taking payments on the mobile receiver. Ten minutes pass, then fifteen, and I ordered a meal, checking my email, my Slack—no messages. The waiter came over with the plate of food, saying he sees the reservation was dated for tomorrow.

No. 159

Clatter

Stepping out of my truck I carried a water bottle, a thermos, my sunglasses, the keys, my phone, and swung my legs out onto the pavement. At that moment, the sound of falling items: keys crashing, water bottle striking the floor, vibrations thundering off the parking garage ceiling. And for a moment my heart stopped—looking down, I had dropped nothing. I stepped forward, and saw a man crouching behind my truck, clutching at his things that had fallen onto the newly painted pavement. A relief, then, that clumsiness comes to others and not only myself. 

No. 036

On Patience

All around me the sound of ticking clocks. An alarm set, a goal established, a timeline created. In this constant time-awareness a pressure builds within me. It’s in this way I am always impatient. I’d resolve to remove myself from this time crunch, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.

No. 035

A Search

The office building stood along a busy road in the valley that I used to take to get to my last job. On the first floor was a bank; I entered its lobby thinking it was for the building itself. Already late for my appointment, I hurried down the block to the front entrance. The two doors stood locked. 

I turned back, and went around the front side of the building, but I only saw the parking garage. I couldn’t park there since I never carried cash. Returning to the front door, I pulled out my phone to call the receptionist. One ring, two, then sent to voicemail. It was after hours; but, how did I get the appointment? Through the front door I could see across the lobby to a pair of doors at the rear of the building. This time I circled around the other way, and found myself at the correct door. This one, too, was locked, but I saw a security guard behind a front desk. He let me in. I told him the name of the office, and he thought for a second before recalling the floor and suite number for me. I would learn later his name was Ali.

Walking into the waiting room, I realized that the doctor was still in session with the patient before me. I considered myself lucky, and knocked on wood that the anxiety of my assumed lateness was misplaced.

No. 027

Clouds

Thoughts like clouds pass through my mind: amorphous, mutable, transforming into shapes, distinguishable for seconds then evaporated; darkness enveloping, intruding; dark rainclouds with horrible droplets—learning to let them pass, observe the shape, acknowledge the thought. Only something you experience. 

No. 012