Well it is about time to try that cold, tall drink. On a hot,, summer day, the humidity collects on that cold glass, dripping water down the side, more than is comfortable to hold in hand while trying to keep my short sleeve camp shirt and loose fitting shorts dry. At a certain point, of being out in the air for a minimum time, the water becomes so uncontrollable that no matter how the glass is handled, it’s going to drip all over. Not that the body will have any objection to a cool drizzle of evaporative cooling sinking in to the heat of the body mass. But, pride makes appearances. Appearance demands effort.
I find in Bangkok, most Thais will use a straw to drink from the glass. Those who walk about will carry the tall cup, glass or thermos inside a plastic bag with handles to keep the condensation, drip collection inside the bag. That’s all fine and practical for the daily commute of getting on and off the bus, car or motorcycle. As it turns out, I don’t have any of that. I simply want to get a glass cup filled with water. The glass could be tall, or it could be half way size. The thing is I like the glass to be there, for water. Simple, easy enough to get. That being said, I don’t particularly like straws. Something about being on the lips and controlling the ice and water, makes it taste better. Holding the water at the lips and letting in what is desired, makes it all flow the way I want it to create that effect of refreshment.
When it comes right down to the getting the drink, I often will procrastinate. I did this one summer in San Pedro. It happened that I lay on my side on the bedroom mattress. I hadn’t yet obtained a frame for the box spring and mattress, so it simply lay on the floor with some carpets around it. I lay there either wallowing, or resting from a good feeling workout of running and stretching that day. I was able to put myself in a cocoon of safety on the bed. It was dark, but not pitch black. The sun still remained to set outdoors. I may have been in the fetal position, on my side, crouching between the big pillows. I wasn’t thinking too hard about that, I just was that primordial thing. Now when the time came for me to realize I had thirst, part of me said, oh I’ll wait. Let it, get it. And before I knew what I was doing, and what I had just thought, I had gotten out of the bedroom, and I was moving toward the kitchen sink. I froze right there, and I turned back to the bedroom, now realizing that I was without my body! I made it back to the bedroom, walking, but not like walking in the body. It was locomotive, but the mechanics where entirely lighter and finer. I suppose ghostly would be the appropriate word, but I steer away from that, as I did not like the thought. I told myself, I don’t want to see my body laying there, Too much conflict in my current beliefs, and we’re talking about my body here. So I am not going to risk a struggle, but instead just stay calm and collected. Nothing like freezing up while riding a bike, skateboarding, or ice skating to start a major wipeout. As I maintained my grace, the little of it, I noticed around the ceiling there was light oozing in around the edge and corners where the walls met the ceiling. The light was dripping into the room, from the corners, and right out of the flat ceiling. It hung there in long tendrils mostly luminescent, but with some dark areas where the light hadn’t coalesced enough to shine.
The word coalesce best describes the shine’s behavior, but it’s quality was entirely of a softer cooler nature. It embodied whatever it was above, or what I was putting toward it. It seemed to want me to touch it. The corpuscular strands emanated whiteness, containing, channeling life. Whether it was the coalescing, that made me think of lava that could be too hot to touch, or the luminescent electricity that made think of getting shocked, I did not touch it. I reached out to touch it, but I stopped with this conflicted thinking. I pulled my hand back. Two or three stood above. I saw them talking and they added in their conversation, that he’s not going to pull up. They laughed cursorily, as if they had bets or something. They laughed. I was having the sight of my life, and all they would do is stand up there in the light looking down on me with their knowing smiles of pity and best imitation of hope. I felt disappointment zoom through the room, that was quickly followed by excitement in the light. The tendrils seemed to sense it, and the one I reached out for, pulled up and away just as I had done.
A wallop, to light whop, followed, as I jumped unwittingly back into my body. I knew I was in, but I did not move a muscle, waiting to see if something other would. Not that I was possessed, but I wanted to see if this body was self moving because it had managed to get along just fine in a way without me while I moved around the room. But full ownership was mine, and I turned my back onto the mattress, taking pleasure in the movement. In a pseudo slumber, I felt how heavy I was. I almost missed having the lightness of being with that other mode. But, the willful locomotive mechanics were a familiar delight, that I did not have, yet, desire to relinquish.
I did not think as much of it then, as I do now. I looked around the room from the bed, as I sat up half way. I looked at the ceiling and where it met the walls. Only dark, flat, heavy walls ran up to the capped ceiling. It all seemed so tight fit, and just a small thing. I felt the darkness, heavy upon me, and I slept. I remember upon waking, looking at the chair across from my bed, as maybe someone, or I again, would move over there and sit. But only the darkness sat there, pushed into the whole room like some jovial soft fuzzy ogre.
The thought was burdensome, and I got up and got that cold tall drink of water. No straw. I sipped the glass with delight, and made myself refreshed.
At the time, I felt this little excursion would pass. It was trivial. Soon though my feelings changed. As if the universe was aware of my lack of feeling, an unusual change marked that day. Around mid morning, the next day, I was compelled to go outside by a hawking and cawing chorus from the sky. I hustled out doors, and around to where the noise was headed. I had made it around to outside my bedroom where I lay that ominous night prior. Before me, in the sky six cawing parrots hovered and angled their approach in the sky. I could see their long tails hanging behind them as they slowly maneuvered to change direction, while in formation of six, to approach three tall cherry trees. Their orange heads, blue necks, with green chins and yellow beaks, stood out in luminous contrast to the pale sky blue, and dark trees of early spring. The three threes were rooted in the small walkway behind my bedroom and they grew up over that room of the apartment. Never before had I seen parrots, or any birds for that matter, land in the upper level of those trees. As a marker of sorts, the parrots landed that day, with caws and screeching claiming their feast on the cherries. A neighbor came out with an astonished look on his face, reassuring me that I was not the only one in such major disbelief.
Whether to check or make amiable conversation, I asked him, “Did you ever see parrots land in these trees? Like these parrots”?
“Never, not like these. Not here.” He said. “I’ve seen parrots, but not here.”
I didn’t know if the tree was going to sprout marshmallows as the cumulative experience weighed in on me. I realized it was convicting me to believe that this really did happen. The world changed part of itself, and I could see and change my thinking. And somehow, I am glad, part of me simply stayed the same adding this to a trivial and soon to be meaningless plethora of misunderstood information. I can’t forget it.
WordPress Tags: Special Day,Belief,Cozy,Out of Body,Drink,Comfort,Thinking