2011年10月18日 Dampers

I was flying at around a low seventy plus. The road was clear, along with black morning sky. Stars were still out, and while I maintained some degree of insecurity within myself, I felt relatively safe in the car. 

Just safe enough.

But would it really be such?

When I parked I sat in the car for about 15 minutes to listen to more music. Windows up I watched nothing in particular. When I got out of the car I remembered a conversation I had with a professor within the previous day.

Or was it another day?

We battled wits, albeit his superior to mine, and not without my reverence towards him for even wanting to talk about certain issues. Suicide was addressed. Unlike other conversations I've had to either justify or demonize such, he concluded the dialog with something like, "In Noh, when one's soul is floating around it isn't important anymore to that soul in question whether or not they died valiantly on the battle, how they lived in life, or how they committed suicide. What matters is how they'll stand in front of Buddha before he sends them to where they ought to be, because the soul is more important than any of that."

Isn't it? Isn't it supposed to be most important?

Why not?

So I left my regular area of operations. I avoided the issues I wanted to address. I avoided the work, and I avoided my thoughts, myself, and I avoided my soul.

I sat down on a wood chair, and began to adjust my emotional and spiritual dampers to 70%. Instruments were all accounted for. Flight two-zero-niner cleared for vector three-two-four. Roger. I tapped my fingers on the small wood table in front of me and contemplated.

Would you mind if I had the controls?

I've got it from here. I said. Lying to myself as I leaned back in my chair.
Roger, switching to auto-pilot.  

I looked down at the table in front of me. When I reached out, my hand felt cold again.