How to Pass the Lump

How is sadness still there. I think reprovingly-- it is enough-- after several minutes. Yet, it is still drip, drip, dripping. Today, off the hearts of others, by the wayside, it seems to be thick in the air like the smell of bacon. And it is clinging on and to me. Even in the midst of sadness, my mind leads me back to meat!

Once again, it is back to the throat. The throat seems to be the seat and the launch pad for so many emotions. Why is it that I do not start to feel it in my toes? Or a twitch in my nose? I'm not going Dr. Seuss here--I just wonder. The throat seems to embody so much sensation. It's like there are eyes and ears and a nose in there.

I am doing something new. I am letting it float around without resisting. If I sit here and sink in with it, not sinking down, but floating, it doesn't feel unpleasant. It feels like a sensation. I am used to blocking off these sensations. Perpetually happy. Like a recurring hiccup. But then, there is this sobriety from sugar, my favorite drug. (Fortunately, I still have a plethora of commas and broken sentences, much to my sister's chagrin.)

All of a sudden, when I am quiet and just sitting here, without t.v, or noise, or food, or chatter or the plans for the next day-- I have my ear to the wall of these invading sensations. Climbing around until now without notice. So I peer inside. Sadness was something I always threw my whole body into. Or pushed it away with sweets. But watching it like this, is very strange. It is a full-time job watching these emotions.

In this moment, the lump in my throat seems to have settled into a mild pimple that just hints at being there. My body is relaxed, my eyes are wet, but I am feeling life. The situations are the same, yet, my inside is not.

This is how things pass. It did not take so long after all.