My sneakers squeak when I walk. Just one actually, the right one. Sometimes I don’t look up when I walk: my head down, road fast approaching my gait, listening to the squeak, letting the peripheral sights make their way into my brain, if they want.
I saw an egret today, standing still, only about 15 feet from me. I thought it was fake at first, but he flew away when the squeaking of my sneaker stopped long enough for me to raise my head and look. And then suddenly in my mind the word “eddy” floated by. A whirlpool, vortex, eddy.
I had written the word in my previous post the evening before. My fingers clicking the letter keys – sometimes they really get going. I love the sound it makes and watching my fingers fly about the keyboard ( I am not so proficient to be able to type without looking for more than a few seconds at a time). Sometimes my fingers quite get away from me, running far ahead. It took approximately 12 hours, and 20 minutes into a vigorous walk, for my mind to catch up and make the embarrassing realization that what I had typed was eddie, not eddy.
I wonder if my mind isn’t really more like a retarded lump of dough that just won’t rise. So slow! My physical body is always so much more alert. There is a lack of synchronicity between the two. And what a shame, I thought bitterly, eddy is a much better looking word than eddie.
Dejectedly I made my way up a hill over a patch of ivy that was trying to cross the street in a hurry. Silly Ivy, I empathized, moving faster than it can think.