training

trying to get used to waking up early. it's not so easy. my body has to be bullied and kick into doing what i want it to do. it says sleep, stay here, don't move. my head says get up, come on, don't close your eyes. the eternal struggle between good and evil.

i've seen the place in new york where john lennon was shot. i saw his apartment that looks over central park and the tear shaped garden that is dedicated to him. i'm only sleeping he says. i'm a dreamer he says. he knew all about staying in bed. i guess it's easy to stay in bed when you don't have to earn a living anymore.

i was in new york a few weeks ago. i saw central park in autumn. you need pictorial evidence. some trees were green. others were red and brown. some were yellow. it was not uniform but a patchwork, splotches of different leaves in different stages of life.

i saw central park from the top of rockefeller and from bow bridge. they were both as visually satisfying as sometimes it's just as important to see the trees and not the forest. from rockefeller it looked like a lush green towel; fluffy and with flecks of gold and crimson. and it seem uncomprehendable that man and not a higher power had laid down such a strip of nature and surrounded it with buildings of light grey and encased it with 2 crystal rivers. the foliage from above was uneven and bobbed and bobbled over each other. if you could you would have wanted to put your hand on it, to feel the coolness of nature on your palm and you would have rubbed it, to get that feeling between your fingers.

from bow bridge you could touch the trees and smell the bark. you walked on the fallen leaves and felt each snapping twig and each rustle as you kicked them along the ground. you could lie on the grass and think of handkerchiefs dropped by god. can take a single leaf and inspect it with your fingers. you can bring it close to your face and see the veins and canals that have mapped themselves across the surface of the leaf's skin. you can rub it between your fingers and feel the smoothness of the front and coarseness of the back. you can bend the still supple stem and watch it spring back up again, with the boundless energies of youth.

when i was in new york i woke up early every day to do things. the energy of the city crept into me. it seeped into my hotel room and into my body as i slept. i breathed it in on the subway as it rocked me back and forth; not to rock me asleep but to rock me awake. and as you leave the subway, as you push your way through those metal railings and twist the gate away from you; as you reach the stairs and look up and see the morning light and all those people pushing past you and infront of you; as you walk up those stairs with all the dampness and rusty hand rail and writing on the wall, you are carried to the top with the mysterious energy of anticipation and the eternal glow that you get when you know it is morning and you still have the whole day left.