Today was one of those days.

I left my body.
I found myself wishing I was drunk,
or speaking a foreign language,
so that I might excuse my malaise in conversation,
but I was not,
and I was not.

A man invited me to a documentary film screening,
and discussion about globalization and consumerism and the destruction of communities, and I wanted to scream,
don't you see that I am, you are, we all are the problem
and don't you see that today I can barely go on living with myself much less sit and talk, talk, talk some more with you, all the while caught in this terrifying safety net people call civility?
Don't you see that I am unfit for your discourse today?

Instead I say something else,
I don't know what,
and he nods appreciatively,
and then I am talking to some others and I say something else and they too smile and kindly express their gratitude.
I don't even know what I'm saying.

I walk away and stand alone,
and then someone is saying I look thoughtful,
and it is because I am pressing my lips together for fear of what else might tumble out if I allow them to part.

An hour later, I try to go for a run. I am heavy today. Sadness, anger, regret, pain. It does not even belong to me; I pick it up in crowds like so many stones squirreled away in the pockets of a coat that is much too large for me. I run to escape, but today I can't. I try, but suddenly I am slowing, and then I am walking, and my eyes are cast downward, and then I am choking and I can't catch my breath and I think I am crying, but the tears won't come.

I step off the trail. I put my forehead and forearms against a tree and try to find my breath. I don't know how long I stand with this tree in our odd little communion, but eventually I realize that the weight of it all is lightening, that the tree still stands tall, unflinching and without lament, and I am again strong enough to stand on my own.

I walk back to the trail and head for home.

Sometimes
less > more.
In negative spaces,
In silences that scream,
Where we become still.