A Fall Morning — SOULFUL TOZ

I wrote this little piece in November ‘21.

I sit at the coffee house. Reading a book on emotions. The chapter I'm at is describing the beauty and healing meaning of having suicidal urges. I look around and realize what a strange thing to be reading in public. It feels almost secret.

My eggs Benedict arrive and to be honest they are a bit shit. That’s okay. I’m trying not to feel bad about every time I treat myself to eat food. I’m also giving myself space to not have to clear the plate. That’s old. I don’t need that in my life. I eat with speed usually as if someone is going to come out of a trap door and scream at me for not finishing my food. Or else they’ll take it away from me. I’m not quite sure what my body is worried about. I take some advice a friend uses where I take some deep breaths before and after each bite. I notice this is the slowest i’ve eaten in the longest time. I realize how all of these tiny details about how we approach food, and every detail and aspect of our lives could have novels written about them. You can dig into treasure troves of insight from the smallest of moments.

I notice how grateful I am to have so much time on my hands. I realize one day, when I have my family and that consumes every aspect of my life for 20 years, I won’t have this much time. The time also unsettles me. The exhaustion of an adhd mind means that I can’t decide what to do with myself half the time. What usually works is feeling into myself, meditation, moving my body and reading. Those always seem good options. I move through all of those pretty quickly this morning and still left with hours. Now what?

I walk through the streets of Black Mountain and it feels like the beginning of every 90’s fall movie. Suburbia, orange, crisp air, a feeling of homeyness. When I walk this way I recognize that i’m always on the outside looking in. I don’t really belong here, but I like to look at all the people who do. I find a street that should have been obvious to me considering i’ve lived here for a year and a half. A street diverging on the main road that has perfect parking and a beautiful breakfast spot. Sometimes I imagine that life is like a video game that unlocks levels and features that weren’t there until you reached a certain point. I have felt this many times. I could be walking down the same area a thousand times and then suddenly, one day, something unlocks and I have access to it. A new store, or street, or park or area that I can’t believe I’ve missed. Today is an unlocking day and so I walk down this beautiful part of a town I can’t believe I haven’t seen before. I’m freezing in my sweatshirt so every time I walk past a patch of sun I go much slower to absorb all the warmth. I’m happy because despite the flurry of confusion I have to go through to get things done or to plan what to do with myself i’m outside and the sky is blue and its cold and its fall. This is exactly the flavor of the day that I needed.

I loop around and I see a young man with a ukelele walking the same path as I. As i’m taking in the vibrant colors around me I think to myself ‘I should do this more’. I do that every single time I feel something good. I add it to my exhausting long list of ‘things I need to do daily for joy’. The irony is that that list is an absolute joy killer. The man starts playing his instrument and I feel like i’m in a movie. A walking musical. The church bells start ringing at the same time. I feel like i’m the main character in a gorgeous sensory moment. God I really need to walk in the mornings more.

I come home to a quiet house. I plug in the pre-lit xmas tree I bought yesterday. I am determined to make myself a solo cozy Christmas this year. I come back into my room with my eternal soulmate dog charlie. I thank him for getting me past these two years. Years of incredible hard ship. We lay down in the sun patch on my carpet. I sigh. I go back to my open space of time I might need to fill up. I settle on writing this.