Have been entirely unable to shop. I can see how I uselessly distract myself with it, and that I don’t need anything. For the first time in forever, perhaps, I have had the steady energy to take care of most of the paperwork on my desk that has been sitting here for years, go down my lists of ‘to do’ lists and check things off, and I am enjoying it tremendously, both for itself and as a relief from editing/writing. I enjoy sitting at my desk for hours, now that it is far more organized than before, lifting up my head to see the birds feeding and the petunias. I have steady energy, too, perhaps as a result of going to the gym three days this week – a regimen I intend to stick to till I leave for India in a little over a month. I love such regular steadiness that is possible by a withdrawal from externals, and it is hope for such steadiness that keeps me reclusive.
Two days ago I thanked my brain for what it is, what it has done, or not done, and so much else I can’t think about this morning because it is my darling brain that makes me think of it in detail. Was it the brain thanking itself? No, it didn’t feel like it at all, but rather a something, someone else beyond my brain that acknowledged it and paid its respects. What, who was it? This, then, is the search, isn’t it?  

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