Any More Obvious

Breathe in through your nose, she says in that meditative way some voices can, and out through your nose, and then after a few minutes see if you can hold your breath while you run, see if it doesn't change everything. I try to tell her that what changes is my proximity to consciousness but as it is a recording the act seems futile. The day is overcast, still I return home with rosy cheeks, new shades of brown along my arms. I forget how much I love May when it is mostly kept from us.

I woke out of the daze of another meditation (all I do is meditate now, we look for answers wherever we can when the world is unwilling to provide them) thinking if nothing matters, then what does? and it seemed to make sense at the time, like a dream that wakes you in twisted sheets but hints that maybe it knows something you don't. If nothing matters, then what does.

 I sat down at the word processor that afternoon, calmer somehow, less afraid. The story wrote itself under my fingertips -- at last, after months of struggle. You're invisible now, you've got no secrets to conceal. 

If nothing matters, then you've got nothing to lose
trying to make it.