April 13th, 2008



When we lived in California, I had to go to the ocean every few months. It was just a piece of myself I knew: that I would need something flat and open and much much bigger than myself. Something that did not loom up suddenly, cutting off bits of sky. Something that was not full of people. What I needed was prairie, but I could make approximations with the ocean.

One of the good things about this was that I had identified the need clearly, and I had identified the closest thing that would fit it, and while I might not always be able to fit it in right away when it came up, that part was a matter of patience, which I can fake with the best of them.

Right now, head-down in PT, I don't know what the brain readjustment is. I don't know what I can do to recalibrate here; I don't know what my source of perspective ought to be. But I need some. I need some way to convince my brain of a sense of scale again.

I don't mind hearing suggestions, but I don't have any expectation that the answer on this one is going to come externally, so please don't suggest anything if you're emotionally attached to me doing it.