Swirl: Processes of Existence

Sometimes I emerge from the great swirling of minutiae into an eerie calmness. It's certain to be the eye of some metaphorical storm, because it's always fleeting -- there's always more swirl looming.

In these sudden bouts of serenity, I tend to dwell on weighty things.

For example:

Sometimes I consider myself less of a person than the prospect of a place where the processes of existence collide. It's like I'm some cosmic case study in stress loads and abstract structural integrity.

I know.

We each forge our trails with unique mixtures of burdens and blessings.

But, there are certainly days when I'd just like to dispatch of few encumbrances to some remote region. It would do me good to banish a few burdens to the hinterlands of exile.

I wish that's what I could do for you this holiday season. When gifts are proffered for Christmas or Hanukkah or Solstice or Kwanzaa or Whatever, I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony and offer each one of you two free Dispatch Your Burden cards.

I know (again).

You and I already possess the power to do just that. And yet we don't. We don't because of the attendant complications or associated suffering or any number of whys and wherefors.

But, it's all moving forward. The world marches on.

And I hope for the best.

Now, here comes that swirl, again.

Marley's Ghost & The Drool Pool

...Nor did he believe it even now. Though he

looked the phantom through and through,

and saw it standing before him; though he

felt the chilling influence of its death-cold

eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded

kerchief bound about its head and chin,...

...But how much greater was his horror, when

the phantom taking off the bandage round its

head, as if it were too warm to wear in-doors,

its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast!

-- Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Stave I, "Marley's Ghost"

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When I wear my CPAP, I also wear this cheaply made contraption/accessory that wraps under my chin and Velcros together at the top of my head. Then, I pull on the mask.

The device reminds me of the many images of Jacob Marley's ghost, come to visit Scrooge and sway him from the path he walks. When seeing "A Christmas Carol" films as a child, I always figured old Marley had some spectral toothache that was part of his purgatorial punishment. You know: tote these heavy chains for penance...and suffer this dental agony while you're at it.

Once I actually read Dickens's tale, I learned that the bandage was functional. It helped keep Marley's mouth from falling open.

That's why I wear mine, too.

The pressure on my CPAP (like the atmosphere of thousand worlds) is so intense, it would otherwise force my mouth open -- out of which would blast the CPAP-created chinook.

Feels a little like someone stealing your soul.

I didn't take my CPAP on a recent trip. Thus, I didn't have something to hold my jaw shut. And I discovered I now drool like a fool.

Man. My mouth can generate some saliva!

Saliva itself is not a bad thing. But, I'd just as soon turn it off while I'm sleeping, so I don’t wake in a pool of drool.

Decaf Eärendil Latte

I spent the first several hours of my morning attending a stuffed-shirt, yet informal, review of a classified presentation I helped put together for an overseas customer.

I was verbally plowing the attendees with my stunning eloquence and decisively dishing simple solutions to every problem that popped up like a corporate Whack-a-Mole.

At one point, I paused before a dependent clause and considered how well I was stating the necessary course of action. This sounds great, I thought. I gestured effectively with the 20-ounce Coke bottle, brandishing it like a phial with the light of Eärendil.

I work well with props.

As I completed a declarative lecture, I slowly brought the bottle toward my mouth, while eyeing the audience. It seemed a theatrical punctuation to end my sentence and immediately swig my cola.

But, the lid was still on it.