Zen and the Art of Forgetfulness

I had a phenomenal blog post start unfolding in my head as I dashed out to get my lunch. On the way back to my office, songs I was listening to were weaving their way in and out of the words that were lining up in my mind like children in a school hallway. Titles flashed across my windshield and my only concern was to decide which was the most clever.

I got back to the office, ate my lunch, and the post is gone. I’m hoping that a trace of at least a title will be still on the windshield when I leave the office this afternoon, but I’m not holding my breath. If remembering that I was listening to “Ghost” by the Indigo Girls when inspiration struck isn’t enough to bring back my cunning wordsmithery I think the post is just gone.

I had a great “mini-break” this past weekend/week, and am quite tired today, so my forgetfulness at least has a chemical basis. Friday I headed to Austell to spend the weekend with my sister and her husband and their friend Ben. We are getting down to the wire on our UK vacation, so the plan was to roll up our collective sleeves and get some final plans taken care of…and we did. Saturday we went bike riding on the “Silver Comet Trail” which was much fun if not unfortunately short lived.

We selected our bikes (Susan and Dave already have their own bikes as they are the more serious riders…I was lucky not to catch a toe in the chain and flip myself over the handlebars!) and headed out. Just before that I’d gotten a frantic IM from my petsitter and good friend Tressy that Hunky was choking and she wanted to know if she should take him to the E-vet. I even called her on my cell while texting with her on my blackberry so I could listen to Hunky’s breathing…and because he was breathing I told her not to take him in but to just keep an eye on him. I’ll spare you the gross details but Hunky had indeed gotten something from his dinner stuck in his throat and Tressy helped him…get past it. I’d forgotten to warn her that sometimes due to his medication his throat becomes dry and it is hard for him to swallow. No Zen or Chemical Basis there, just another example of me thinking that everyone knows what’s in my head and forgetting to verbalize that fact to her.

You haven’t lived until you’ve tried to ride a bike, change the tune on your MP3 player, and send an IM through a handheld all at the same time. I felt like I must have looked like Nataraja representations of Shiva, the Hindu God of death and change, most popularly pictured with multiple arms on each side! More forgetfulness reared its head when I tried to take my helment off to turn it in and couldn’t figure out why it seemed attached to my head…till I remembered that I had taken out my headphones and left them to dangle…and tangle, it seemed.

Unfortunately Ben had to leave early on Sunday because he didn’t have enough insulin with him. My worry over Ben’s trip back home brought to the forefront something else I’d forgotten…how much a deaf friend’s husband’s diabetic coma almost two years ago had shaken me to the core, and how I’d put that fear and anger and sadness aside because I interpreted a great deal at the hospital for them. Before I could get ahold of my naughty naughty subconcious, I had memories of leaving the hospital when I was done with my shift of interpreting, finally able to cry and ball up my fists and yell at God how unfair it was that my friend was having to go through this…I had memories of floods of tears related to fear for her husband and the fear associated with knowing I was probably going to be there to watch him die.

He didn’t die, and came out of the coma, but the whole experience was enough to terrify me and I’d forgotten how much until I started wondering if Ben had made it home all right. Forced forgetfulness is not always the way to go, even in my profession.

I still can’t remember the idea I had in the car.

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