Thursday, March 25, 2010


I wonder where that cord came from. I wonder if I could pull that plug out from under the truck that is parked on it. I wonder what that cord went to. I wonder if I own something that I could use to power something that I own that I have lost the power cord. I wonder if it would still work after I pulled the cord from beneath that heavy truck tire.
I don't have a radio on my bike. Instead of listening to the drive-time DJs on my favorite radio station on the way to work, or catch up on the day's headlines as I make my way to work, I listen to the random thoughts inside my head. Sometimes they are very focused and directed, especially if there is a pending concern or problem at work. Sometimes I can use this "quiet time" to meditate on the best solutions for a challenging situation. Sometimes it can lead to obsessing on that problem until my thoughts become frayed and useless. Mostly, on any given day, the sounds inside my head are like my power cord quandary.
It's an exercise. Even though I travel the same streets and intersections back and forth twice a day, five days a week, I rarely lack some interior monologue. Usually I am nominally focused on the task of getting myself from point A to point B, but there are always a thousand questions along the way: What is the change of elevation from the school to my house? Do I really go uphill from school, or does it just feel like it at first? Didn't those people just paint their window frames, or was that last spring? When will that store on the corner be open again? Did the family that ran it move away? Maybe something more nefarious?
Making up stories about the scraps and bits that litter the path between my house and school keeps me from thinking about the physical task of getting from place to place. That's a matter of fact. The whimsy I collect from here to there is the music that starts my day.

1 comment:

Mrs. Id said...

I think that's just wonderful. The inner monologue is becoming a lost art, just like letter-writing.