One, two, one, two, it shouldn’t be that hard. Left, right, left, right. Lub, dub, lub, dub. I’ve been hearing about that since I was a kid, at least since those nuts at Disney put out Hemo the Magnificent when I was 7. Flip, flap, flip, flap; a night runner goes by across the street to further illustrate and orchestrate.
A few blocks back, as I reminded myself to look at the dark sky and tree silhouettes and be more present, I remembered how I used to think about how painters never seemed to get that dark blue right, how it was my calling, how maybe I should get around to that again, I realized as my head was scratched by some low and naked tree limbs that maybe I was being present in the wrong place.
Lub, dub, lub, dub. I should be able to do that, been doing it all my life. Maybe this advanced poly-rhythm my heart started seeking, that may be tiring me and that the docs don’t like, is all part of the ascent to a higher realm. An existence further into the stratosphere of the fractal edges of the rhythm of life. If you look closely at those edges, zoom in, there’s always a basic pattern if you dig down far enough. It just seems like dissonance when so zoom out and see them all piled up and cramming in next to each other.
Another night walker at a tangent, as if to illustrate the obviousness of the tiring/weakening part, asks (just as I’m starting to compose this story in my head) if I’m alright. “Yeah, just at the end of three or four miles, trying to get home.” “Well, you’re almost there. Keep your head down and power through,” says he with a little fist pump. Yeah, I need to keep my head down while keeping my head up. And, it turns out, maybe I needed to hurt that side of my skull to balance out the aching and swelling on the other side of the head/face/teeth all day.
up,down, up, down…