My windows are all open and a heavy autumn rain runs loudly off the eaves. The sky turns blue from time to time with distant lightning.
I'm sitting on my futon thinking, where I do most my sitting and thinking. Actually, I am worrying. I'm worrying about my propensity to decide what I think I should feel and then try to feel that way without waiting for my feelings to catch up. My feelings are poky. My feelings, basically, are tired of my mind telling them how to do their job. Whenever my mind gets all high and mighty about things, my feelings slow down. Clogged, as it were, in protest.
To cite a small example, my mind has composed three new posts for my blog over the last ten days or so. But the posts did not fully address the situation to the satisfaction of my feelings. So I didn't post them. I should post them, I thought. No, I felt.
My feelings are doing better now that I've written a post lobbying for their interests. My mind is embarrassed that this post uses the word "feelings" so often. My mind needs to mind its own business.
Meanwhile, I make do with colors and sounds. Thank God, my mind and feelings are united on all things aesthetic.