I often think about my own death as I walk. It isn’t morbidity but a wish to put it all into perspective, to examine my own littleness, and likewise the littleness of my problems, pains and fears. I go into detail – what my body will look like, whether I will float above it looking down and how long the memory of me will survive in the minds of those I have known. I hope it won’t be for long. I don’t want to be held here. I’d like to think I would soon be a nothing. It helps somewhat though as soon as I get home I am assailed once more by details.
He advocated the management of breath. Count 4 on the in breath and 6 on the out. I tried it last night when I couldn’t sleep for this nausea that has taken over. It is a low-level discomfort but it niggles. And the rain keeps on coming. Where is Spring?
