Drip, drip, drip. I am looking at a Nakai water filtering pitcher. Drip, drip, drip. Water is gracefully free falling resembling a drizzle. Once each droplet hits the water surface, it elastically creates an elegant coronet. Water droplets create sound while they bounce like ballerinas practicing ronds de jambe.
All this reminds me of the hydraulophone music video I once saw on YouTube. Wait, when did I last change the filter? I remember it was still dead winter when I finally decided to give up bottled water. Did I drink 150 gallons of water since February? I highly doubt it. Apropos winter, it seems it lasted nine months again. A full term pregnancy. Today is July 5th and just yesterday we celebrated America’s 244th birthday. Chicagoans went full spectrum on fireworks last night with all that bottled up emotion due to the Virus, the one that shall not be named as Harry Potter would say. The temperature outside is in the mid eighties even as dusk is falling. Humm, humm, humm. My air conditioner is working overtime to process the suffocating air. I cannot hear the droplets anymore. It is just me and the muffled sound of filtered oxygen tirelessly filling up the room. I take a deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth. One more time. The air is dry as it travels down my throat. It tickles and then it burns a little once the lungs have had enough. Everything has its limits. I forgot to activate my new credit card. I just had my credit limit increased which came in handy during my recent online shopping extravaganza.
Humm, humm, humm. Noise gives me headaches but so does matcha. David Jones once wrote, “It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply”. With that said, I think I am cold. I hate the feeling of goosebumps forming on my arms just like tiny ants crawling up my elbows. Hate is such a strong word. Humm, humm, humm. Maybe it is time for a pause. Silence. My head is still buzzing and I am a bit lightheaded. A couple moments pass and I can almost hear my blood pumping. I put my right hand to my heart and I hear: “It’s a feeling, a heartbeat. Don’t try so hard. Close your eyes”. In an instant, I am watching the Hungry Eyes scene from Dirty Dancing. I listen to my heart irregularly contract and it truly does skip a beat. Now, I feel my stomach rumble. The time is slowly approaching 21:00 and the dark sky is velvety and so boundless.
As I open the fridge, I think to myself. Why do I always feel like the main character from Eat. Pray. Love. when I meditate? I like Julia Roberts. She is a talented actress and a Pretty Woman.