(no subject)

In an effort to quell my anxiety problems, I've taken to various forms of distraction and contemplation. I walk, I stand, I kick around a hackey-sack, I meditate, I talk to a six-foot catfish pillow, and I toss inline skates at my wife. They all work to varying degrees, though the inline skates tend to provoke my wife into attacking me with framed portraits of Saint Francis.

Anyhow, the meditation is nice. It leaves me calm, refreshed, and ready to face just about anything short of St. Francis. It does, however, have a most unexpected side effect.

It's affecting my feet. I can feel the energy flowing through them now. As I walk across the flat and level floor, I feel myself climbing up and down as I traverse the metaphysical plane. It's most odd, but not really disconcerting, despite this being my feet.

You see, I know the truth. My feet are discovering enlightenment. My feet are on the path that Buddha walked. My feet are becoming Buddha.

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