Waiting for my coffee to brew 'fore I head outside and write.
Which is always *so hard* -- that first part, like stepping out over a ledge onto something that's an invisible plank, supposedly there, that you're supposed to trust is there. Or you're supposed to build with your imagination as you go. To keep from falling.
Faith. It's always about faith -- isn't it?
I wanted to tell you briefly about my friend who, last night, was talking about weight. About trying to shed 40 lbs. But when caught between a tailspin and the ice cream, there's the ice cream. A sweet creamy net.
We all have our sweet creamy nets.
I have mine. Even if people don't believe it. Probably because I have many. Spread them wide so that I never get tangled up in any *one thing.*
Cross-addicted another friend says it's called. Which frankly, I think most of us, all of us, unless you are totally enlightened, are cross-addicted... balancing out one addiction, preventing one self-soother's obvious ramifications from becoming too obvious, by crossing over to another.
But the interesting part is why?
Why? Why? Why?
It occurred to me last night, after I walked back home, then opened the freezer to spoon out exactly four (but were probably more) melty ribbons of black cherry sorbet, which turned soft and oozy so quickly (that's when it's best), slicked my lips, coated my tongue with a peppy liquid colour of pink bubblegum... knowing, KNOWING with full culpability that I was eating pure sugar. At 1am... which in itself is not terrible, except that for me, sugar after 5pm, hell, after 3pm, is going to make it hard to sleep. Is going to send some kind of sucrose-induced headache to my brain, remind me of *all* the rivers in my cranium as the sugar raft rides through them... and at some point, will make make my heart pound a little faster than it should -- likely when I'm horizontal and its 3am and I'm under the sheets regretting that I allowed myself any shaky sweets at such an ungodly hour, when sugar is to make you AWAKE and that is the last thing you need when you're trying to shift your schedule to not be AWAKE at 4am.
BUT I DID IT ANYWAY.
Despite that preparatory talk about not doing such things, which in some weird way, almost seemed to egg me on.
So, as I sat awake at 3am. As sure enough I did. Wondering why. It came to me that it has something to do with faith. With faith about the good things to come. Lack of faith of good things to come. Because, I think, in those moments, when you're about to open the freezer, you ration... deep, deep, deep, and practically undetectably under... as you look into your future... the hours, the days, the weeks to come... maybe there is nothing out-of-this-world on the horizon that is going to rock your life... but at least, *at least* in the moment you've got a spoonful of ice cream. And so you open the door that holds the guarantee, rather than hold out for the nameless, faceless, unknown *whatever*.
Good things are in store, Good things are in store, Good things are in store....
They are always in store -- particularly if you don't doubt it.
Resolved: to remember this the next time I think about the pints of mango, et. al sorbet in my fridge and fancy how nice it would be to dip a spoon into one past midnight.