What My Body Tells Me

What my body is saying is that I am 35 years old. I am not in peak performance that is for sure. My muscles are weak and tired from the lack of action that a sedentary life brings. I am crawling out of my skin trying to figure out what to do to stay in the moment. My brain is twisted and lost in motion, perpetually spinning as I see the random array of the keyboard moving up.  G next to H, N next to M, letters all in a chaos that only make sense by a memory of the feeling, the touch of the keyboard.  I write to discuss, but I have nothing to say. I hold my eyes steady hoping that a moment of clarity will begin to arise out of the jumbled and chaotic verbiage, written and spoken words, making me all dizzy.

My eyes are weak, staring at a computer will do that. Research may not show that, but it is something I observe. Tired eyes from thinking too much, and always questioning what I should do next. Next, there is a plan. Next, is another scene to fulfill. Always another project to focus on because the one I have now is beginning to bore me.  I am bored by life. It is too simple, too basic for me to be able to satisfy this rage of a spirit that I have. Sitting still is undeniably excruciating to my body.  This is what I see and say.  My brain is demanding more, more, more, and more.  

Hold tight, make a plan, wait it out.  

I know if I follow the instructions that things will begin to stabilize. I am the ship at sea in the storm.  I have no on-board navigation. I have no way to see my path, so I choose a star in the night sky and sail for it.  I change stars mid-voyage, and again to the next until my map has been drafted like a strange constellation that looks like me.  Who am I to judge the journey? What if this is the best way for me to take this travel.  I cannot know that there is any other way. The feelings are just there, all around me.

I jig and move. I am a jigger. I tap and scratch and run and thrash with nervous energy.  It annoys my wife. It drives some of my friends crazy.  Not all of them care so much about it, but most notice it. I interrupt, and I cannot listen.  It is all part of me, a reactive creature that stings the wrong prey.  My motion is typing.  My action is the word and letter on the keyboard. I am back again here trying to focus once more. Why can’t I seem to stay here?

My body is saying get another cup of coffee, number 12 for the day.  My body is telling me to workout for a second time so I can get into better shape.  My body is saying take a nap, rest, go to work, write this out, think this out, shut up, lay down, walk, move, bathroom, feed, drink, eat, swarm, let go. This is the mystery of humanity in me. A single movement to find out whom and what I am is abound. Ask the questions, and receive the answers.  

Grateful, I am blessed to be this way. Others have no drive, no ambition.  I have more than my fair share, a bit too much to make sense of anything I suppose. Perhaps that is why I need my partner, my children, my animals, and businesses, and farm, and home, and all of it. The balance is external for me. They say to look inside; it is an inside job, that happiness is within.  What if that is bullshit.  What if what is inside is just a mass of chemicals and emotions that have no order.  A misfired and wrongly wired electrical panel, with alarms and buzzers that work only half of the time.  Could I be a backward saw blade, like a knife being used on the dull edge, a waste of time because I am not being utilized in the correct way? 

Look for what makes you happy they say. What if everything makes you happy, though, and what if nothing does.  Maybe it isn’t what but when.  Look for when it makes you happy.  My body says to me get out, get out now before it is too late. Go and try more, live more, find more.  My more is always less, though.  Too much is never enough, and a little can be far too much for me to handle.  

Such is life, but at least I have my keyboard right here, right now.  A simple man’s way to expel thoughts and excrement of the mind.  A way to assess, reassess and divulge the random shots of electrical spark that are blasting out of my temple as I type.