Overcooked Greens

I feel like I have been going on and on and on throughout the summer. Am I afraid of taking a break?

Summer has been a season of attempting to stick to patterns and habits. I am writing this from Newburgh, a city that’s a little under two hours north of NYC — the first time I have been away from home this season. I run, pray, eat, work, socialize, sleep, repeat. My body is not used to this extended period of monotony. It’s craving and has been starved of chaos — that feeling of flight that comes when I run away from my fears, turn to past versions of myself that lurk, give in to my insecurities. Yet, the line between choosing truth versus fear has grown bolder so much so that I can see the person I am becoming when I choose to confront either path.

[Friday Aug 12th] Thunder claps rage and shove me awake. For the past few weeks, a few days a week, I have lost sleep. But today, as the rains fall, I sense that I am not the only one gazing into the darkness, pondering their sleep-interrupted. I have not been granted any reprieve from these bouts of insomnia. Perhaps I have grown so sensitive to the motivations of my being that’s causing this uneasy slumber.

[Tuesday Aug 8th] It’s mid-week and I’m prepping dinner. Distracted, the broccoli gets a little charred. I smell the greenery that were it to bake a little longer would begin to turn into ash and become fodder for whatever frustrations lie buried underneath. I have these elemental pursuits I needwant that drag me away from being present. Always looking ahead, thinking of the past while the present remains elusive. The mornings that follow episodes of losing sleep, I drag, don’t run but attempt so hard to get back to my ordinary schedule: heat water and to make pour-over Yemenese coffee, mix frozen berries, granola, yogurt, milk and et-cetera into a smoothie, place these on my work desk, wash my face, brush teeth and immerse my thoughts into the what I need to get done. Am I listening? To my body?

[Several days] My notes are erratic — thoughts parade with no clear thread. Some days I can feel myself get stronger and want to run more, to indulge and see how far my muscles can go before they break apart and wither. By testing, one may discern the will of the gods. Doubt creeps in at times, and I think I can compromise and stare into the sun. Can I evict this gaping hole or do I peek in? “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” We desire the good things yet we pursue, with rage, again and again their destruction. Were I a wedge that defines the contours of uncertainty and mortality, I would traverse those curves and place my hope on those crevices — biding time; willing myself not to lose my grip. And what happens when I let go — what do I become?

[Today] This is the beginning of a week off of work, less rigorous running, a perhaps irregular eating schedule and letting go of expecting myself to complete tasks. The broccoli almost burnt because I was multi-tasking — rushing to contain the entirety of my desires within too short a window. The need to slow down is calling. Will I listen?