(((this morning...)))

First paragraph…

Secondary lines…

Second paragraph…

Secondary lines…

Third paragraph…

Secondary lines…

[ LINK TEXT ]

Text effects

italic text

~~struck through text~~

underlined text

bold text

small text

line break (without new paragraph)

(preparing for mundanity 😂 (finally figured out some smileys in Notes!)

((7:46pm as this transcription of this morning’s handwritten entry is beginning making the title now seem a little bit ironic (not sure that’s the correct word for it, but amusing regardless); most of a day being devoted to writing about a couple of hours of a relatively ordinary morning))

((thinking about returning to this while in the car on the way to Grand Rapids and suddenly realizing that. for the second consecutive day, writing out the morning mantra (now being referred to as the daily ‘opening’) has been neglected in lieu of what one might call “getting to the good stuff”, so lets just briefly know that out…))

thoughts, sensations, perceptions — phenomena.
breathe. notice. rest in awareness.

open, aware, present… whatever is happening… nothing excluded… here/now/this…

being is enough…

… an unconditional ‘yes’ to the fact of experiencing (anything) at all…

((Note: the following handwritten portion was originally penned in all-caps, but i don’t want it to look like shouting.))

“this morning…”

(prepare(ing?) for mundanity (pretty sure that’s not a word — mundaneness? whatever. don’t care. like it. we get the idea))(immediately love this idea for a subtitle (now wondering if i’m over-explaining it…)

((holy crap! ‘mundanity’ and ‘mundaneness’ are both words!))

BeatSaber

not quite a true or literal beginning, but sparing the the rolling out of bed, petting cats, moving down the stairs rhythmically, lightly, to minimize the creaking (formerly ‘creeking’) of an old staircase to avoid disturbing anyone. and then the little loosely organized gameplay setup, the details of which i really will spare… (i remember earlier thinking “this morning…” will be a test of memory, of attention to detail) … fuck it… lets keep going… black circular densely (formerly ‘densly(sp?)’) padded kinda squishy foam mat — feet kinda sink in a little(.) pressure feels very ‘even’ when notic(ing). (just remembered the “towel” idea. we’ll come back it… (Towel(ie)(sp?)(ha!))) anyway… mat rolls out onto the floor in the front room of this just barely… … sunlit room space within this one-hundred 15 fifteen(ish?) year old (Michigan) house… it’s keep kept on top of the left-most of a pair of not-quite-ceiling(sp?)-height bookshelf cabinet thingies… (actually, (literally (ha!)) looking back now, that’s a bigger gap than i was thinking/imagining, but they’re taller than me and maybe two feet from the ceiling…)) (not really a memory test anymore is it? that’s more like looking around at what’s here… does that making it cheating? (ha!)) the VR gear (Meta Quest Oculus 2? (not sure of the order (of it’s actual make/model))) rests atop the right-most of theses twins, flanking the only front-facing window of the house (it has an east-facing window, too, even now still giving sunrise)… it’s (the gear) collected after moving the cream (creme?) cat-mangled ottoman (formerly ‘ottaman(sp?)’) over to the front of a nearby grey chair (which i am now sitting in (and in which i now sit again)) to make room for the unrolling of the mat previously described. (didn’t want to leave that out for some reason.) once on, the headset has some weight to it — neck muscle reconfigure, all after some stretchy squatting (formerly ‘squating’) and side-bend-ing to loosen up and feel the body a little bit. twenty-two minute timer set on the phone (tracking exercise), and we’re off! (ha!) “(The?) Pretender” by (The?) Foo Fighters: (Expert+, Practice Mode, 70% (immediately love(d) this idea, too, just now) no recollection of where/when exactly in the song… in fact, i think (i’m pretty sure) i offered myself a couple (or more maybe) of mulligans (formerly ‘muligans(sp?)’) before committing to “just finish(ing) one dammit.” (ha!) so it was during this ((committed)) one… beginning to notice how far ahead i was looking in front (formerly ‘ahead’) of the notes i was hitting — a warm brown for the left and gentle blue for the right against a mostly red background i think… (it often seems like the notes are position-ed in such a way as to create a bit of a dance of rhythmic bouncing, swaying, swinging. i imagine this must be intentional. i love it, regardless.) (thinking about transcribing this as close to as-is as possible or adding editing commentary as i go through it again later while typing it up; we’ll see…) ((thinking then about what actually happening right now… minimal editing so far)) looking toward the back of the three-dimension-ally-appearing space, planning (or trying to consciously plan) upcoming moves. trying to recall any familiar patters from previous attempts… trying to remember what’s coming… (really like that line) so a thought occurs ((as)) “what ((if)) i/we (don’t recall specifically) just zoom in a little bit?” followed closely by “oh shit!” (scared/stunned) as well as “oh shit!””look at that!””cool!” accuracy struggles at times regardless of perspect-ive, but man! to, just a couple of times even, actually watch this digital blade slice through this digital block — awesome! next thought: some form of “this is cool! i should write about it.” and planning begins… syntax? (i don’t know… just like the word since it popped in) how best to describe this experience, this awareness of shifting attention from looking ahead to looking around to thinking about looking around to thinking about writing about looking around ((to noticing thinking about writing about looking around while continuing to play)). notes are missed. several complicated sections are cleared without obvious error eliciting feeling of amazement and wonder like “how the f— (uck?) did that just happen?!” breathing is working. (laughing emoji ((😂))) body feels warm, loose, good. the song is over… “but i want to remember!””screenshot!”(of the score) 1,352 out of 1,368 notes hit (see attachment maybe? (not sure it’s possible))… all while paying giving barely any (conscious/intentional) attention to act-ually playing the game (this happens often, but in this instance, ((is)) followed by the a thought like “you could add this to the writing, the story; the game kinda taking care of itself while being perceivably sort of ‘elsewhere’ in actual thinking” and “oh that’s good, too!… gotta remember that later, too.” “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd (formerly ‘Leonard Skynyrd(sp?)’)(correct performer? yes, and spelling corrected) (Expert+, Practice Mode, 60% (i think)) in the same menu ((file? album?)) as “(The?) Pretender” — “Rock Mixtape” i think — and just… drew the attention. “it’s a long one, especially at 60% speed, and even at that speed still lots of fairly lengthy complicated bits.””yep! lets go. lets just see.” (maybe it’s more of a bluish-grey or grey-ish blue background actually; maybe “(The?) Pretender” is, too, actually… unsure now… but pretty sure both songs use the same style (what i mean is ‘color’, don’t know why i don’t want to say it in such a seemingly harmless context) of blocks…) slightly (more) winded… not sure how far (time? ‘distance’?) in i am… and the thought “it’s kinda fun to imagine the universe (or whatever) ‘speaking’ through song (apparent((?))) choice via vibes, lyrics(sp?), movements, whatever.””not seriously necessarily, just a fun thought…” unsure what specifically might’ve been heard in the lyrics or whether or not it even matt-ered at this point, but playing continues with this (the universe, the colors, the speeds and shifts, rhythmic complexities, etc. ((— communicating itself)) in mind. complicated sections cleared with mostly reasonable accuracy… then a kind of ‘felt’ memory of a final stretch coming up; ((a)) tough ((section)) even at 50-55%… “we’ll just see.” music is building a bit… getting closer… “there it is!” “okay, okay…””yep, yep…””shit!””shit!”“shit!””shit!” “one more song… something happy and upbeat.” (Sherri’s in the area right ((then)) now…) something like “what do you think for a last song? did she recommend something else first maybe) i seem to remember wanting to further explain the intention of said song, after which Lizzo was suggested. attention went almost immediately to “Good as Hell” (can’t believe we’re still just talking about BeatSaber!) (so much to type by the time we get through the whole morning!) maybe this can be a ‘to be continued…” maybe that’s what this pen is ‘trying to say’. and i do enjoy now the idea of blending the two mediums into one piece. fitting. (the tea steeped for 42-minutes… that was an hour and a half ago or so and the first sip is just now coming… ((it’s now 11:11pm, and “this morning...” has become a whole day)) … continuing from handwriting… “Good as Hell” by Lizzo (Expert+, Play Mode (for scored points, just for the self-added pressure), “Slower” song (85%) the title is entertaining both because of it’s irony and subtle religious implication (love this about it (don’t know how to type/find emojis in the Notes app - we’ll come back to it maybe)). also a fantastic pace and rhythm - it really does start to feel like dancing (and perhaps there is some generally positive observable quality to the particular brand of flailing actually occurring). it’s fun. it feels nice. happy. the lyrics have their meanings, and they’re heard, but they don’t matter so much in these moments; it’s the music, the movements… (may have an accidental screenshot of the actual gameplay for this one) missed one or two notes… wasn’t really paying attention to numbers anymore and feeling tired and pumped! “time to start writing all this down!” morning routines: Cats (six of varying ages: Leo Lord of Laziness, Diesel, Cricket Moonbeam, Ruby Mocha Frappuccino, Zigfreid Zekial Ziggy Stardust Supernova, & Babette Bliss Bomb Supreme, JM (for Joy Missile) instead, though… cats (who seem to by default take priority)… Sherri works on arranging their food while i begin moving through morning routine stuff awaiting her availability to give Zeke his eye drops (to help stimulate reduced tear production). the order seems a bit more random randomized today. (distracted by wanting to write all these things — about noticing thinking about wanting to write these things while morning chores/routines continue, subjectively slowly perhaps, but carrying on nevertheless. i now don’t really recall which came first today: picking up cat toys so they don’t obstruct the vacuum robot, collecting last night’s cat food dishes for eventual rinsing and loading into the dishwasher, but they both got done. then filling and setting a stainless kettle on low for a tall sort of rainbow-colored stainless steel insulated cup (same on every morning) of (soon-to-be) organic decaf green tea. what was next… unloading the dishwasher, i think, while awaiting Sherri’s readiness to help with Zeke. the moment comes, “let’s make sure everything is ready” is thought… a laid-out towel to wrap him - check… (don’t forget the towel(ie?) idea!) okay… … his special bowl for dehydrated fish skins which he loves, hoping to help develop a positive association with being physically assaulted for the sake of medical intervention… … check… and of course, the drops themselves — a white and purple tube of clear, thin, gel-like liquid. Sherri — ready; stage — set. time to collect a 3-year-old, 17lb. Siamese Flame Point from the covered and screened-in little upstairs balcony — one of his favorite spots when the weather is nice enough to leave the sliding glass door open. he can be seen, through the door of the bedroom and from the top of the stairs via a short hall, sitting in a kind of synthetic wicker chair , looking out curiously over the whatever activity is being noticed in the back yard. white base coat with light faded and blended orang patches, orange and white striped tail, orange-tipped ears, and beautiful light blue eyes. i pick him up and scratch his face — so compliant — already feeling bad about what is coming… he grows tense and unsettled as the stairs are descended, but he’s so gentle, he doesn’t really try all that hard to get away even though he seems to know he doesn’t particularly want what’s about to happen… wrapped in a bath towel like a burrito, or as much so as could be managed given the squirreliness (not a word? is now… (laughing emoji)), holding him against my chest while Sherri places a drop in each eye and lightly rubs the liquid into the corners a bit. thankfully, he recovers quickly in the interest of those fish skins and a little dry food. “now that’s done… time to start writing stuff?” “we could, but we’re already kind of into the morning routine… we can remember everything so far, right?” “uh, yeah? i guess, i mean.. probably, maybe…” “let’s just keep going — test of memory (not sure if this was the actual moment of the thought, but it did (does) seem related) — we’ll just do our best later.” (was the dishwasher already completely unloaded? unsure. but the previous evenings cat dishes still needed rinsing and loading, so…) standing over a sink of soaking cat food plates and bowl having, at some point during this chain of events, dumped any leftovers into a separate bowl for any nighttime visitors (most often one or more of, i think, three outside who we call Lucas, Spooky, and whatever Sherri calls the other one, and/or a sporadically returning opossum friend)… rinsing and placing dishes in the dishwasher was, i think, when the towel idea arose… towel (“many things and one thing”) a ‘burrito’, a soaking-up and/or drying instrument, a cat bed, a beach bed, a head pillow, a wrap, a cape, a cover, a hand towel, a shop towel… many uses and appearances, many (interwoven) strands and fibers, and yet never not and/or always still a towel… many things, one thing… … and then all the dishes were loaded and that was done. (oh! also, i remember thinking something like “isn’t “Towel(ie?)(sp?) a Southpark character?” (ha! i hope so…. (laughing emoji)) morning routines: (continued…) i think the tea water was hot enough by now… i’d left the cap ope unintentionally and it started to whistle as soon as i closed it. “too early to pour” was thought. “too much yet to do.” refilling bird feeders with seeds and offering some almost to the regular squirrels was next, i think.,, one of the quicker tasks, and it seems to have contributed to teaching many of the squirrels something like “nuts come from over there.” (being the back sliding glass door) so they often come up on the little deck and stare in like “well?” (even cute when they’re expectant/insistent) i remember standing at the feeder outside and briefly appreciating the sensation of cool, damp, shaded grass beneath my feet and between the toes… then back inside… litter boxes just three to check, two of them automatic. it was noticed at some point earlier that there’d been a bit of a urine-mess made overnight. areas nearby the litter boxes are covered with washable mats, mostly for Diesel at this point, who seems to have a thing against the smells of other cats’ waste and will, therefore, frequently object to using any less-than-immaculate little box… so anyway, i’d already laid down a few paper towels to get the cleanup process started while working through some of the earlier routines… (oh! washing feet! so, somewhere in the midst of all of this — and I honestly don’t remember exactly when/where now — Sherri came up to the back door stating a need for help… she’d been digging up diseased Boxwoods in the front garden and was struggling to get them into the yard trash (waste?) bin. so we went out, assessed the situation… dirt-heavy, but the dirt must go, too, being apparently were the disease lives. two plants in a wheel barrow — no problem… handled quickly. thinking, at that point, that i was just returning the wheel barrow and could soon get back to the regular morning routines so that I could sooner get to write, i was then informed of four more Boxwoods (still in the ground) with which she would also likely need (and, at the time at least, seemed to expect, though not ungratefully) help… i remember the frustration of interruption and perceived expectation. i remember wondering if i should say anything (complain?), do anything (sigh? sulk? make the discontent otherwise obvious somehow?) or just do it and move on… it seems to have ended up being a combination… (a bit of sighing and probable face-making followed shortly after by a recognition of doing so and a knowing that it would likely upset her if she noticed, so no more of that…) all six plants ended up in the bin (after climbing up and standing in it to compress them a bit). fuck! washing feet! so when i came in from outside after casually stomping some dying little bushes into a bin and getting dirt all up in the blue and purple tie-die crocs being worn at the time (they stay in the garage for just such occasions), it seemed clear that cleaning off the feet would probably be a good idea. paper towels were initially selected, but there use was overruled in consideration of the availability of reusable “paper towels” (cheap but perfectly functional bulk-set washcloths). grabbed one, dampened it, and began washing my feet in front of the kitchen sink thinking “enjoying the symbology of washing my own feet as an act of care and humility. (but also as a result of not wanting to be bothered with washing them in a shower or tub right now (then))) … so the paper towels were cleaned up, the floor sprayed with thieves cleaner and wiped again, a new mat was placed, loose scattered litter was vacuumed, the boxes scooped and contents disposed of in a little grey bin designed specifically for litter. (the two automatic ones are typically just checked and cycled unless their built-in bins need emptying — not necessary today). now what? (suddenly not sure when the tea water was poured relative to other task completion, but i do remember that it was 7:56am because i wanted to know how long it was going to end up steeping while i finished everything else, and also while still rather intently focusing on (hoping to be able to recall) everything up to this point… i may have poured it before helping with the plants thinking “not that much left to do” — in fact, i now remember thinking about telling Sherri “i have tea steeping right now” in some mildly annoyed tone. also, this may be the point at which the “testing memory” thought arose, realizing that extra stuff to remember and keep track of was being added voluntarily at least, if not intentionally.) vitamins pretty sure this is when the tea bag was finally removed — 8:38am — 42 minutes of steeping. (any applicable “whatever” emoji) the gathering of supplies has become so habitual that it’s hard to say exactly how it goes… regular baby-blue powder-coated stainless-steel water bottle, clear plastic mixing bottle that was included with the initial order of the powdered greens supplement (AG1 if it matters) which has it’s own medium-sized dark green cylindrical canister and matching tablespoon scooper, a mostly black container of creatine monohydrate, a small mostly dark blue and grey-ish bag of mineral salt, and a few other capsules (omegas, magnesium glycinate, l-tyrosine, and a liquid dropper form of vitamin D3+K2) and that’s it — all focused almost entirely on (intended primarily to contribute to) brain and nervous system health and regulation. there was another moment (perhaps several) during the processes of pinching (salt), scooping (greens and creatine), dropping (a single drop of D3), drinking/swallowing (three capsules), and shaking to mix then drinking the vitamin concoction, in which it was noticed that more thought (attention) was being devoted to this (remembering, writing (eventually), all while the above-described activities, maybe slightly clumsily at times, continued… the vitamin bottle is washed out, dried, and put away… finally time to sit and and begin writing all of this out… (refer to beginning) it is now 1:41pm, the remainder of… … which is still tasty and relatively cool actually. and now we are here… we are here now, together… and i should maybe eat something… (laughing smiley + eye-rolling smiley)