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Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness. Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress. Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.rainfallpress.com/

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Amongst The Clouds

The Plain White T's - Hey Delilah

Zen moments are often fleeting, and very rare.  Well, maybe not for hippies and stoners (one and the same?) but for those of us with feet firmly planted in the drudgery of a day to day reality, a zen moment could slap us in the face and we’d still not recognize it.

So I’m coming off of an absolute shit day yesterday.  I was the recipients of hollerings and misunderstandings from all directions.  I’m playing doofus-in-the-middle between a flighty television producer and my friend’s mom.  My father has been an old crab lately – if he had a cane he’d be beating people with it just for fun.  Not too bad of an idea, actually, but I digress.  My hip and my betrayal of a leg is casting a cloud of doom on the recovery of my birthday party, prompting me to keep reminding myself how touching it actually was to have fifty people want to come celebrate with me.  I’m trying to block all of the drama queens at the racetrack I work with out of my mind for the paces they’ve put me through as of late.

In a nutshell, it sucked for anyone who has had to live with me this week.  Yes, honey, I mean you.  And it’s why I love you so.

If I were a more positive thinker, I’d remember on these days to keep looking for the silver lining.  But I have no skill for such thoughts – what I am able to manage is to recognize the moment before being slapped again.

I’m having a glorious zen moment and want to share it with the world. 

Wow.  Shove a Coke in my hand and drop me off on the nearest hillside. 

Image DetailToday was a day for my favorite lunch at the Cheesecake Factory of a thai salad with sweetly marinated cucumbers, carrots and sprouts so fresh they walked on the plate without a word of complaint, soft coconut rice noodles on a bed of emerald lettuce with satay chicken with chopped peanuts adorning the top to round it all out.  Serious yum.  And for once I have the time to devour it without the sin of a ticking clock staring me down. 

Josh is whizzing by and taking care of my every need.  “Need more tea?  How’d that salad come out, lovebug?”  Finally, someone appreciates me!

There is a bevy of men serenading me.  For three minutes I was Delilah.  Now I’m watching the movie in my head of Mrs. Jones meeting with her illicit lover at the same time, the same café. 

Darryl Hall - Me & Mrs. Jones

In ten minutes I’m going to walk through the cool glass doors and back to the muck.  These fleeting nirvaneous moments don’t come around too often, I’m not even letting the kid across the way having his temper tantrum break the bubble.  Instead, I’m putting up my feet, taking a sip of my Paradise Tea, and smiling a secret smile of And that’s why I don’t have any of those screaming buggers.

I will go back to deleting racist comments and name calling on my video channels.  I will look for the one video to offset the terror of today’s society that reminds me we have a shred of humanity left amongst us.  I will write something that tries to make sense of what I read and watch in the news.

Not too many things are a certainty in this world.  Endings are a certainty.  Beginnings are a bit hazy, but like the crusty sourdough I am diving into an herby wine sauce with, it’s the squishy warm part in the middle that makes it all worth it.  In my moment, there are no calories, there are no clogged arteries – there is just a groovy rhythm and a great view.

© Kymberlie Ingalls, August 25, 2011

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