Verge

In the last half hour before the taxi comes – to take me to the airport, to go to Zürich, to return to studies at the Jung-Institut for the first time in a year, to take the second half of my first-half exams (if you can follow that – is it easier if I say, second-quarter?) –

last night I Skyped Nomi, with no warning which is kind of rude of course, but bless her she answered. And we talked for nearly two hours, about everything – and I was calmer at the end of it.

Because I began with a knot of tension – and a real knot, I've had increasing gastro problems the last month.

Which suggests that, despite all the other anticipations and plans and concerns and hopes, there is a startlingly important (projected, anyway) quality about this particular one. I've barely seen Michael, let alone Andrew and friends, for a week or four; I keep cancelling, anxiously focused on studying, or at least not having fun when I should be studying. And I stopped going to yoga, meditating… things that would make this all easier, yes? Okay, bad ideas all, but you can see how I'm thinking of all of this.

Of course, the instant I was speaking to Nomi, the obvious aspect of this showed up – that I am tending to push the anxiety down out of consciousness, away from the conscious mind into the unconscious one, and of course the body. Which is silly… but typical of me I suppose, especially after the past decade of general inertia.

But at least I can see it – conceptually, not immanently – and hopefully that gives me a little more space to breathe….

In the meantime: I seem to be focused on this taxi ride. Somewhat as an athlete focuses walking out of the dressing room to entire the track – or a gladiator going out to meet wild beasts: as though everything is about to come to a point –