This just isn't funny at all--I just almost died from choking on some food.  I was 40 seconds without air, without movement in my windpipe.  I felt my head start to pound, I couldn't swallow, couldn't cough.  There was no one around to assist.  Pressure was building but nothing gave.

I saw the stalemate.  I saw my body dropping to the ground. I saw the pale rider.  I didn't panic.  I didn't care.  Something informed me there was a way out.  I paused.  I assessed.  I closed my eyes.  I opened my mouth and a small stream of saliva dribbled to the floor.  My body suddenly heaved.  My windpipe cleared somewhat,  I could breathe slightly.  Encouraged, I reclaimed life.  And coughed.

And...but where is my part?  What part to play is this societal movewind, whirlway, rollerride?  First and foremost, I find myself eco-centered.  I heed the horse I ride upon ( I do not ride all night and never see the horse beneath me) and I do not pick up the vagrant feather (which cannot be cast away as easily as one would imagine.)  I tour environs, memories, associations, situations,  eidetically, cinematographically, but always only as a virtual unclingon. If asked what’s happening or how I’m doing, I’d like to feel that I can respond with the words of e.e.cummings:  “Life is too much being everything to seem anything, catastrophic included.”  I’d like to feel that I could always greet people with Rumi’s prompt: “How aren’t you?”  Moreover, I would like to always feel that I could describe my undercurrent sense of life’s worth with Crazy Horse’s proclamation: “Today is a good day to die.”

 Well, I haven’t died yet.  Life is too much being everything...and, oh. by the way, how aren't you today?