This weekend I had the flu, the violent flu. This baby hit me Saturday evening, keeping me awake and on the bathroom floor for half the night. Sunday was a day of aches and congestion. The symptoms are milder now, and it feels my body is slowly rebuilding all the necessary infrastructure for moving in the world. Being ill gives one a new perspective. The experience shows fragility and forces an assessment of what matters to simply survive and feel decent. It makes me thankful for feeling normal. Funny how we have to go through something to understand the lack of it. I don't think abstraction is as strong as we'd like to believe.
This morning I took a slow walk to rejoin the world. It's crisp and cool here in Hillsboro, and I walked in an old neighborhood just across 231st from my groomed development. I thought of joining the flow of one part of the world, and of leaving it for a time. I thought of stop signs, how the messsage communicated is separate from the work of the city crew installing them. I saw an old man scooping his leaves, engaging in this act of tidying a space the environment will soon pass to some other person, who may decide to cut the tree down. I considered life as not a trough to feed from, but as the experience always jumping ahead, beyond my thoughts of what it is and will be.
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