The Horizon Line

I’ve always been fascinated by the junction of land and sky, or water and sky.  Holding a beer and sitting on a porch, tracking my kayak, in the hammock, hiking, or biking or running – it’s just two worlds colliding, and it always makes me feel relaxed.

My words just won’t line up today.  They stand up on their own when I bleed them in black, and each has a meaning, but when jumbled together they don’t mean anything.  I pinched a nerve in my back and now parts of my brain are preyed upon by a constant wash of pain.   Bits of stories in my head clash and won’t come together – sort of like a bad dream.

I received acupuncture the other day, for the first time.  Halfway through I passed out, in a not-so-comfortable way.  I didn’t fall asleep, I passed out.  I felt light headed, and the people I was talking to seemed to fade out, far away.  I was out for about 5 seconds.  Somehow I have vivid memories of conversations with several people that lasted longer than minutes – each.  In my head, it seems. The cold sweat and several hours of a stumbling mind were real.

That’s how “pain days” feel.  Temporal and spatial mismatch, out of sync.  Goals and direction are blocked.  Time slows down.  It takes longer to build a decision-tree and execute responses.  People tend to watch me closer.  My answers come out of somewhere that isn’t familiar.  I can’t build my thoughts into anything coherent.

Light still falls on the floor, obeying a pattern of sun and glass, shadows of sycophantic clingers-on.  A flash-bulb goes off in an alley that you’ve never seen before.  Just for a minute – it’s familiar. The sun slides across the sky in the throes of an Alaskan summer, circling around you, never fully escaping the embrace of the day.  A child is born, grows old, and dies in the space of a single breath. There’s expansion going on, somewhere in my mind. But today it slips my grasp, all my words hide in the corner of the inkwell, hiding from the pen, shying from the light.

When you stand on flat ground you can see about 3 miles to the Horizon (assuming you’re 6 foot tall).  Today I feel much shorter and, as a logical consequence, I can’t see as far out. I’m glad it won’t last, but, strangely, I’m also glad my mind now operates as such where the stimuli and its results are interesting.  Maybe even entertaining.

I’ll make more better good thinking words later.  Shot of whiskey and off to bed.


As an aside, the acupuncture did wonders for several days afterwards.  The slightly traumatic experience opened up into a very real sense of calm and completely remedied the pain in my wrist.  These things take time, however, and I’ll be going back for further sessions – this time not sitting on a barstool.

Secondarily, I’ve noticed that my aches and pains come back with vengeance if I go more than 2 days without strenuous physical activity.  I’ve also noticed my mind wanders in funny ways, generally not useful and definitely lackadaisical. My work environment is extremely relaxed, though focus and progress are rewarded.  I’ve also been exploring different activities away from just biking lately to determine the whats and whys, but in the end, I am certain that I have to stay active to stay focused – to stay mobile to keep from fading out.


About RCS

An interested, often crass fellow. Likely found on a bike or wandering in a seemingly aimless fashion in the woods. Use caution when approaching, as the subject is known to be oblivious, and at times obnoxious.
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