Have you ever played tennis against a garage door? And yourself?
Just you and the door bouncing you back to you. It's great.
There's something so soothing about repetition, something that can get you in the zone so nice and snug that you manage to iron out all the twittering in your head until it's just you, your breath, backhand backhand again now volley, forward, straight, step right run back left backhand boom too high now the ball bounced off into the damp grass.
Pick up, serve, repeat.
Until the light disappears. And you can manage to slightly make out the ball only because of its neon green nature.
But it's trippy this back and forth with the garage door because although you are serving yourself, that damn ball still manages to get a life of its own and bounce off in an unanticipated direction.
Hey, I thought I was sending it that way?
That's probably why I take such long showers.
Lather-rinse-repeat.
Music gets it in the zone too.
Listening to that one song of the moment over and over again...new layers make it to your ear even after the 43rd time you've heard it. "oh wow I've never heard that din, tin, tin in the background before."
Man that's exciting.
Maybe that's one of the marks of a great music maker.
Getting something so right-on that it surprises you with something new even after months or years of listening to it.
Running does it too. In the zone that is...
And the familiar repetition of a yoga routine.
Turns it inside out so that you're in the zone on the inside, at home.
Funny, because as much as I despise routine, when it's reduced down into its micro-state of repetition within a small space of time, movement, feeling, experience, it just snaps everything into place.
It forces you to pay attention and enjoy.
Well, hopefully.
There's nothing worse than watching someone next to you struggle against a position that is supposed to unify your mind, body, concentration, breath. It really fks with me sometimes, I can feel their tense energy crossing the line of our yoga mats.
When it does happen, I use it to concentrate and get deeper.
So thanks, I guess...
Où est-ce que je vais là ? Dans cette passage, dans cette mirage. Hier soir j'ai commencé a me parler. Et bien entendu. Puis j'ai chanté, des paroles, du prose, en Anglais, en Français.
Les mots sortaient sans aucun synapse.
Comme ça, sans effort. Et j'ai rimé.
J'étais toute seule, en fumant un oinj dans le hamac en bas de chez moi...Les feux d'artifices explosaient tout autour de moi.
Mais je voyais rien. Rien du tout. Toute seule avec les sons. Et les lucioles qui clignotaient.
Neon lights from those fireflies clicked in time with the fireworks.
They're doing it again tonite.
Re-peat.
Airborne, light show
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