I need a place to write, and since my writing muscles have atrophied from years of typing, why not just keep a blog.

Monday, August 22, 2005


I sometimes have a problem relaxing. My mind will be going a million miles an hour. Every little thought screaming through my brain as if it were some kind of cerebral autobahn, or a Jackson Pollack creation.

I have no idea if my racing mind is normal. I try to calm down, but I usually get distracted by some random thought, and all my efforts to calm my restlessness goes right out the window. Some people have told me I need to try meditation. That I need to train my mind, to organize my thoughts in some fashion.

I have several visualizations that I use to try and focus my brain away from everything else. The first few are relatively simple. First, I try to imagine a white spot on a black background. Then just concentrate on the spot. Second, I imagine a white picket fence and I am painting the fence in my mind. Each brush stroke, up and down, is timed with my breath. Third, I form a small spot in my mind surrounded by walls, nothing can enter that spot. And slowly I expand the walls to include more space. Eventually I am able to push all the other thoughts out of my head leaving only that impenatrable space. I am usually successful using one or more of those techniques.

Sometimes though, I have to break out the big guns. Sometimes I have to go to The Field. This is a made up place I have in my head. This is my place of relaxation and calm. The world does not exist there.

Up near my home town are these huge open fields, spread across acres and acres of rolling hills. Each spring, usually around March, the fields go nuts and millions of Golden Poppies bloom. Turning the lush green hillsides the most brilliant orange gold color. Up close you can see each and every flower, gently blowing in the breeze. But off in the distance, they all meld together in a brilliant sea of orange red fire. As if the entire hillside resembled the surface of the sun.

Off to the side is a huge Oak tree with roots that branch out in every direction. The kind that you can sit undeneath and no one would see you there. And lastly, far off in the distance is the coast and the ocean. The hills slowly slope down to meet the sand and the deep blue expanse.

Ok, so we have all the parts in place. As you can imagine the possibilities are endless here. I can walk through the poppies, I can sit under the oak tree, I can walk down to the beach, or I can just stand, close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun and coolness of the ocean breezes on my face.

Thankfully, I don't have to go there very often. Usually only when I can't sleep. One of those nights where you're staring at the clock that says 2:47am. You had a fight with your girlfriend, you have way too much do at work, and you forgot to pickup the damn drycleaning. One of those nights. Like I said, The Field is my last resort. It has never not worked. Every once and a while reality comes crashing in and I have to start over. But once I get into it, I'm out like a light.


Blogger TripleJ said...

Nice. Very nice.

11:04 PM

Anonymous JJones said...

Thanks Triplej. Glad to see someone is reading my stuff.

11:18 PM


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