I had lunch with Dr R today. It's Lent and so the single meatball was foregone, although melba toast did make an appearance. I have grown to enjoy gazing out the wide windows onto noonday Central Avenue, the landscape northeast a soft sububan blue-green of hills rising behind the commercial clutter along the avenue. The view is connected to seeing Dr R and the hope our conversations usually engender. I think I talked most of the meal, and a good deal of what I had to say for myself came from this blog.
I want to be brief.
I'll find the next step with my hands. My ability to use my physical senses is far outweighed by my visual, intuitive and mental facilities. My ability to measure the world using my senses is impaired. It may always be this way, and yet growth is often in the dirction of weakness. For example, I could explore: 1) anything that can be counted, e.g. minutes, calories, dollars; 2) the way my body interacts with space; 3) appetite.
Another thought: art therapy. Dr R was particularly fond of this idea.
Dr R also loaned me Varda's documentary The Gleaners and I. I watched it this evening, saving part two for tomorrow night after taxes. There is so much here—I can think in terms of garbage.
The problem to be overcome: intertia, the lead my mind hooks to every movement away from what is known and comfortable. Thin weighted lines hold me in place. They are not difficult to sever, but it is a matter of being free enough to do so.
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