What are the things you consume each day? I don’t mean just what you eat, I mean to ask: What are the things you encounter, experience, process, include into your daily recipe for living in time and space? What do you prefer? What portion do you take?
I ask this because I am walking and I am carrying a small satchel. When I rest, I will sit and open the satchel and produce a bottle from which to drink and a pouch of tobacco and a pipe. Also, I have a book by Rabelais, a harmonica in a handkerchief, some figs and some almonds.
I spread out the handkerchief in the shade of a big, mossy tree. I pack my pipe and reach for some matches. But they are not there. I stand up and check my pockets. A sense of panic overtakes me. As usual — nothing in my pockets… The plan is over. Or is it?
What is your daily dose? Five cups of coffee, seventeen cigarettes, the weather report, licks from a dog, a morning meow from a cat, two kisses, ten laughs, a little piece of your own mind left at the end of the day?
Each thing you “need” each and every day adds to the force of your own personal gravitational field pulling you down — the gravity of you and your particular situation. Let go, you glutton! Take a few things, yes. Can you fit them in a satchel, or do you require an SUV, perhaps a cabin cruiser?
Try a lighter field of gravity. You will be walking on the moon, unfettered by your measured out daily doses of two-hundred and fifty-three “things.”
By the way, do you have any matches?