My commute to work has changed drastically, leaving me with 12 hours a week of time. Just time, while the world rushes past the train windows. I leave Portland so long before the sunrises that I am in a different state by the time it peaks red and orange and yellow above the farm land. I try not to see it as lost time. Try to maximize it. Reading, working, thinking. But it is that third that has gotten me hung up. Too much time with ones own mind is a dangerous thing. Is it scripture that says "idle hands are the devils work" or something like that? To me it is an idle mind.
So I try to capture the sense of calm and one day at a time attitude I so easily embraced in New Orleans. But it seems to slip away a little each day. I grind my teeth again, have migraines again, wish away entire weeks and then find myself on a train. With nothing but time. To think about what I've missed, what I've left behind and what is ahead. The train may be my embodiment of hell. Especially when the guy behind me won't stop singing along to his iPod.
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